


The Purging of Asgard

by Harmonious_wordsmith



Category: Loki (Character), Marvel, Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 19:56:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 29,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3423596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harmonious_wordsmith/pseuds/Harmonious_wordsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are a simple, quiet, comic store owner with a penchant for nick-naming your regular customers. So far your life has been a bit on the boring side, until recently when you've begun having horrific nightmares.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

You look out over the gardens from your balcony in the palace, your husband still sleeping in your shared chambers. The sun has already passed overhead and is beginning its descent, and all around the city you hear sounds of everyday life: boisterous laughing from the tavern, calls from the vendors in the square as they get ready to close up shop for the day. You’re watching the children in the yard below you, playing tag or sparring with sticks, some of them practicing their own gifts, all enjoying the perfect day.  
"I reached for you and you weren't there." You start when you hear your husband whisper close to your ear. Two lean arms wrap around you, fondly smoothing over your very pregnant belly.  
"I apologize. He wouldn't allow me any more sleep. In any case, the day is waning; we should have been up and about hours ago." You lean against him, your head resting back on his shoulder and he nuzzles into your neck. You both watch the activity below, content with your own musings of what your own family will be like.  
"I wish this could have been." He whispers. Your heart splinters at a forgotten memory.  
"What do you mean?" You ask cautiously, turning to look him in the eyes, but his eyes... They are so different. So dark. Mischief turned to menace,  
"If you hadn't lost me, you would have been so happy." His eyes darken further, his face growing pale and sallow. The world around you shifts, the ground beginning to tremble, the sun darkening. You look back at the garden: no longer the haven for playing children, but a mass grave, bodies lined up side-by-side, even stacked two or three high in some places, covering almost every inch of the once bright green grass.   
"Instead," He continues, he even voice a near-snarl, "this is your life. Your fate. You chose this." He steps toward you, his hand running back over your stomach. A shooting pain takes the wind out of you, nearly making your knees give out, and you grasp your round stomach. Pulling your hand away, you feel an odd warmth and you see your hand coated in thick dark blood. You look down. Your stomach, gashed. Your baby... Gone. Your husband is no longer your husband. He has transformed before your eyes into a nightmarish wraith, towering over you, grasping at you, but something is holding it back.  
In the distance, the sounds of life have transformed: laughter turned to wailing, last call becoming a battle cry; you hear the screaming, clashing iron, shouting, crumbling stone. The sounds of war.  
Try as you might, you can't scream. You can't even move,  
"Y/N..." You hear a whisper on the howling wind. Your vision blurs. "Y/N, why would you leave me?" It sounds like him. But his voice is so pained. What's happening?  
The ground tears open beneath you, plunging you into an almost tangible darkness. You claw at shadows that drag you lower, chaining you to walls you can't see. You try to scream, try to breathe. You wake in your apartment, sitting bolt upright in bed, reaching into the shadows cast by the growing light of dawn. Your sheets are damp with sweat, your hair sticking to your forehead and neck. You force yourself to lie back down, focusing on calming your ragged breathing, trying to shake off the lingering feelings of the horrific dream.   
You fall back into a restless sleep with a familiar though foreign name on your tongue. You whisper his name into the dark, at least you think you do, you're not sure of reality in this time between nightmares and dawn.  
You try not to think of him, not sure if his name would bring the wraith, or the lover, but your voice rises anyway, unbidden, rebellious, calling for him in your sleep,  
"Loki."


	2. Chapter 1

"Excuse me?" A customer jars you from your near-napping state.  
"Oh! I am so sorry." You jump up from the stool behind the front counter, "Hard night last night. Will this be all?" The woman looks at you sympathetically and nods as her son sets his biweekly comic on the counter. "Ah, leaving Marvel behind for a couple of weeks?" You ask him, scanning his Aquaman issue. He nods thoughtfully,   
"My friends keep telling me Marvel isn't as good as DC, so I thought I should try this."   
"Tell me something, kid," you lean over the counter, "do you like Marvel?" He nods enthusiastically, "then it doesn't matter what your friends say. Give DC a try anyway, you may like it just as much, but you don't have to pick just one. And it certainly doesn't have to be just because your friends say it." You slip the book into a bag and hand it to him.  
"Which one is your favorite?" He asks, you lean closer to him and whisper conspiratorially,  
"I like every single one." And you wink at him. He and his mother leave smiling, which is your aim for all of your customers, and you think that's why your modest comic book store has survived this long. You have several regular customers, the young boy and his mother are two of them, you had dubbed him Thor, since he first came in after a kids Halloween party, wearing a full Thor costume, and the kid seemed to have a heart of gold. There is also Captain Winter Falcon, who is obviously a huge fan-boy of Captain America, but can't seem to decide which character is his favorite, so he wears a shirt with an auto-mail sleeve (though, with the red-white-and-blue star of the redeemed Winter Soldier instead of the red Communist star), always has his Captain America shield on his back, and wears Falcon's goggles on his head. He really was a sweet guy, but it took ages for you to find out considering his near-debilitating shyness.  
Then there was the Collector. He always ordered the rarest comics, sometimes it would take you weeks to track them down, and they weren't exactly cheap, but even telling him he owed you $800 for a single comic, he never batted an eyelash. Today, he came in promptly, always looking like he'd just come from a business meeting, and held his new comic like a newborn baby, cradling it carefully, staring reverently at the pristine cover. He sets is carefully in his briefcase and offers a smile and nod of gratitude, right as a monstrous yawn overtakes you.   
He pauses, chuckling lightly,   
"Is everything okay, Miss Y/L/N?"   
"Oh, it's fine, I just had a horrible dream last night, that's actually been happening a lot lately. It just kept me from getting any restful sleep. Nothing, really." You try to brush it off, thinking it a bit weird to share your bizarre nightmare with a customer,   
"Well," he turns back to you, "what I always do when I have stress dreams stealing my sleep, I drink a measure of brandy just before bed. Whiskey if the boogy-man is particularly insistent." You smile at the advice,   
"Thank you, I'll see what I can scrounge, I don't exactly have any whiskey lying around." You chuckle, and you both nod your farewells.   
"Let me know if you boys need any help." You call to the back of your store. There was a group of teenage boys who also came in fairly regularly; you usually just refer to them as the Justice League. The Flash, so named for his expedient visits, constantly trying to hurry his friends along; Aquaman, who was apparently very sporty, but would more often than not wear a high school swim team shirt; and then there was the Green Arrow, you nicknamed him after overhearing a story about when he shot himself in the foot at an archery range. The League always went straight to the DC section, though lately Aquaman seems to have migrated to the Dark Horse rack.  
"Did you say you were having trouble sleeping?" Three young ladies practically materialized in front of you, you've taken to calling them the All-Mother. All three of them together. You started out calling them Charlie's Angels, but they were just too cool once you had chatted with them for a little while, so you felt they deserved a cooler name.  
"Oh, yeah, just some weird dreams, no big deal."   
"Well" one third of the All-Mother began; you think her name is Andi, or maybe Annie. "My sister always told me that if you want a good night's sleep, you should find yourself a good man. Ya know, one who can tire you out so much you don't even have the energy to dream." You blink. Okay... She gets elbowed by her friend, who added  
"Since beginning such a relationship in the next six hours is not advisable, unless you already have someone who fits the description, I would just try to keep myself extra busy, hoping the work could keep my mind off of whatever was worrying me." The first girl was still rubbing her ribs as you quickly scanned their purchases, rather amused at the suggestion. Yes, you were single, and only partly by choice. You would love to find yourself a guy who knew how to tire you out, but you were generally too busy to go out and meet people.   
The Justice League watches as the All-Mother heads out, chatting amongst themselves about their favorite character arcs in the Spider-Man comics. The Flash can't stop looking out the front window, even after the girls have gone.  
"Can I help you?" You giggle; he jumps slightly, "did you find something you'd like to buy? Do you want me to get the girls' phone numbers next time they're in? Or I can search a title for you."   
"What?” he keeps glancing at the door, still in a star-struck daze, “Oh, no… I mean, I think I'll take this one." Green Lantern. He definitely wasn't paying attention, one thing you do know about him is that he hates the Green Lantern.   
"Hey, kid?" He finally really looks at you; you're waving the cover in his face until he notices the title,  
"Oh, ew. Hang on." The whole League comes back about five minutes later, each with their own purchases. "Ya know,” Flash says, turning back at the door, “if these dreams are really creeping you out, maybe it would help more to write them down instead of ignoring them. Even if it doesn't take your mind off of it, you could end up with a wicked comic series." That was actually not a bad idea.   
"Yeah, maybe. I could even sell it here." You start thinking out loud. They start heading out the door, "by the way," you add, and they turn around, "the girls come in after school every Wednesday." The Flash smiles, nodding, they take off, you look at the clock. Six hours to go, you feel like closing up early. Although, Flash did have a point. You grab your journal and a pen from your bag and, sitting behind your front counter, you take a deep breath and recall the horrors of your dream. Imprisoning them on paper and freeing your mind from the memories of last night's terror. It's just a story now. It was just a dream anyway. No big deal. Right?


	3. Chapter 2

You've tried writing your stories out in an acceptable, coherent, literary form half a dozen times already, but for some reason these dreams refuse to flow as readable stories, everything you write, though it's been helping slightly, just comes out as confused babble. You’ve decided you need a break from the endeavor, so now you're reorganizing the Marvel racks, trying to undo the havoc that was wreaked by a bus load of school kids. They were far too young to have true regard for the property of others, and demonstrated this deficiency in so many ways. If they weren’t playing tag between the racks, they were sneaking into the back room. When they noticed the place was full of books, they ran from display to display pulling a comic out of the middle of the rack, glancing at it, and if you were lucky, they would toss it back onto the stack in a random spot, several ended up on the floor. So you decided: no more field trips. You had a word, or a few words, with the two adults who were suppose to be in charge, stating as nicely as you could manage, watching the carnage unfold, that maybe next time they wanted to have a Super Hero day at school, they should take their own comics into the classroom. Because no way in Hel, Muspelheim, Purgatory, the Underworld, or Limbo, were you ever having two dozen raving, possibly rabid, six-year-olds in your store again. Not if you could help it. As you watched the squawking children get wrangled back into their yellow tin prison, you were reminded how grateful you were that you didn't have kids.   
Now your attention is on the racks of jumbled comic books, Spider-Man suddenly showing up in the middle of an X-Men series, an entire stack of Iron Man books had been transplanted to another rack and they were currently mingling with Wonder Woman. Frustrated as you were, the thought of that cross-over made you giggle. After some consideration, you decided Tony couldn’t handle her. The poor guy would be eaten alive.  
The bell on your door jingles, your musing coming to a halt.  
"Oh, hello, sir." The Collector nods a greeting, meeting you at your front counter, "did you have a new title for me to find?" You loved when he came in requesting issues and sometimes even full series', none of which you had ever seen or heard of before, it almost felt like a treasure hunt,  
"Not yet, I actually come bearing gifts." You look slightly confused and more than a little wary. "Oh, I just remembered what you were saying about not having anything on hand to help you off to sleep, so I put this together for you, consider it an early Christmas present." He says with a smile, he pushes a basket covered with a cloth across the counter to you. You lift the cloth to find an assortment of tea, a Dickens book, Shakespeare's sonnets, a few candles, a couple of CDs of soft music; you lift the cloth higher, and there in the back is a crystal tumbler between a modest bottle of Brandy, and a monster bottle of Whiskey, both of which looked like top-shelf brands. You look at him, wide-eyed, trying not to chuckle, "the way you were talking sounded like you were dealing with insistent boogeymen," he winks lightly,   
"This is very thoughtful, but it's so much, I don't know if I can accept it." You drop the cloth back in place,  
"Oh, nonsense. It's a gift. You do so much for me, I wanted to help you." You smile in thanks and tuck the basket under the counter, "that help extends to a talk if you ever feel the need, sometimes it's just what the doctor ordered to really decompress."  
"I'll keep that in mind, thank you so much." He tips his hat as he leaves, and you're alone with your disorganized books.   
School bus of goblins aside, it has been a really quiet day, so you get back to your organization. Captain America is done, the Hulk is back in order, and you think everything is done but the Thor shelf. The kids didn't get to too much of this one, it seems to have been almost out of their reach.  
You shuffle around the few books that were out of order, spotting one of your favorite issues. Glancing at the front door, you figure no one seems interested in new reading material today, so you lean against the rack, flipping through the glossy pages. You're about to start reading when something catches your eye.   
A single panel, but something about it nagged at you. That balcony looks so familiar.   
You look closer, wanting to see the courtyard beneath it, but whatever lie below was blocked by a high stone wall, so you flip to another page, hoping to find another vantage point. Instead you find a close-up panel of Loki. His eyes determined, jaw set, brow furrowed in his stubborn glare. A pain crawls from the back of your head, over your ear, across your forehead, as you're about to consider it a delayed migraine caused by the children, there is a shooting pain in your eye; so sudden, you actually cry out, dropping the book. You pinch the bridge of your nose, press the heel of your hand into your closed eye, rub your forehead, nothing helps. The migraine feeling gives way to a feeling of constriction. As though something is pressing in on your head from all sides, then your chest tightens. What is happening to you?  
"Y/N..." You barely hear the whisper over the pounding in your head and try to open your eyes, the store is still empty, fear adds to the tightness in your chest. Something has changed. Something is very wrong. Something is coming.  
You try to get to the counter where you left your phone; you need to call an ambulance, but just two steps and the world tips. Your legs crumble, the ground rises to meet you as your vision goes dark.  
.  
.  
.  
On the other side of the city, a man exits an alley way and strolls alone down the street, looking for everyone around him like a middle aged, well to-do man, window shopping, perhaps for his girlfriend or wife. A man like this, perhaps he has both. Each passerby is totally oblivious to the presence of royalty, or the purpose of his arrival. For anyone curious enough to tarry, the severity in his eyes quickly had them scurrying along, head down. He was on a mission, looking for someone in particular, and when he found them, he would not be repeating past mistakes. They would not be returning with him. Unfortunately, due to his past experience in a city nearby, a city these Mortals had christened as New York, he would have to stay under the radar, allow these swine to maintain the illusion that they are safe, that they are free. He would be back at a later date to rectify this. For now he had to secure his place on the throne of Asgard as his and his alone. So he walks the cobbled streets of Boston, following a near-cold trail. He will find his only remaining rival. And they will fall.


	4. Chapter 3

Where are you? Darkness is surrounding you, bewildering your sense of direction, suffocating you. Are you underwater? In the air? No stars. No moon. No light. But you are acutely aware of beings sweeping here and there around you, fluttering overhead, veering around you; you hear the swish of cloth as they fly. Yes, they must be flying, you hear no footsteps. The cold here leeches straight to the marrow, you can't even shiver, it freezes and burns. You are too disoriented even to call out. But who would you call?  
"Ah, here we are. You have come to me at last." A female voice hisses, "Long have I awaited the day I would usher your soul into my halls. My greatest trophy yet." You see a murky shape before you, like seeing through a fog. Dark robes, a black, horned crown, pale face, but no details, no colors. Two ice-cold hands, fingers like talons, take hold of your arms, wrenching you to your knees. The fog begins to clear.   
"Where..." You trail off your whisper, not wanting the answer, you are dreaming, just like last time. The horror will end. Of course it will, like last time. "I'm dreaming. I'm dreaming. It's okay. I'll be fine. I am fine."   
The being in front of you, seated on her mangled throne, is chuckling, a cackling laugh at your frightened muttering.   
"You came to my domain willingly. Do you not know Hel when you see it, your highness?"  
Highness? Well that settles the dream theory. Comic books bleeding through again. Now wake up before you're thrown to the Hel-hounds.  
"Hel. Then that would make you... Hela?" You ask, wishing your voice was steady. You try to call on your random knowledge of comic books and folklore. The being stands abruptly, walking slowly down the steps from her throne.  
"You expect me to believe you do not know me? What pathetic attempt at insult is this?" The two shrouded guards at either side of you, still holding your arms in their icy grip, force your head forward into a bow. Now you notice you are wearing a gown, one with folds and layers like a Greek goddess... No, not Greek... The cloth is dyed a rich, deep olive green, trimmed with gold. You also notice, to your horror, that you are kneeling on a path paved with skulls. Some are humanoid, some animal, and some so big or so small that you shudder to think what manner of creature they came from. The cheekbones, teeth and jawbones cut into your knees. Why are you feeling pain if you are asleep? They won't let you stand; instead they push you lower the more you struggle against them.  
"I'm dreaming. I'm dreaming. I'm dreaming." You begin whispering again, willing it to be true, even as Hela, Norse goddess of the underworld, towers over you and bends down to your ear,   
"All believe this moment to be a nightmare, they know they sleep, though never come to terms with the fact they will never again wake. By all means, my queen, think you will awaken in your chambers. Let yourself believe you will return to your beloved, if it helps," she wrenches your chin up forcing you to look her in the eyes. Her face seems to be half-rotting, the flesh on the left side wrinkled, peeling away, her cheekbone protruding, eye socket partly exposed and her eye pale white, unseeing; her right side was almost comely, fair skinned, healthy, though twisted in a menacing scowl. "You are mine now." Her breath skates across your face, roses mingling with rot, "there is no home but my hall. No voices but mine and the cries of my other trophies. No sky but the blackness of this world. No stars. No earth but your roiling, wretched prison."  
Despite telling yourself you would be okay, you feel a tear fall as despair grips you, your heart sinking as you stare into Hela's dead eyes. You feel light, but dragged down at the same time, like you're being pulled from your own body. The icy hands that hold you down begin shaking you. You blink, breaking the gaze,   
"Y/N..." Who’s voice... "Y/N... Can you hear me?" Your shoulders are being shaken, the shadowy cave fogs over again. The nightmare melts away and you are looking up into concerned eyes, full-flesh covered faces, the light from the front window seems blinding after the darkness in your dream. Morning.   
You look around, you're still on the floor in your shop, surrounded by an avalanche of comics, apparently you knocked over a Superman display when you passed out, and now the Justice League has come to your rescue. They crouch around you, watching, one of them rolled up his hoodie and tucked it under your head, the Flash walks over as he is pushing his phone back in his pocket.  
"Ambulance is on the way. Oh, she's awake?" You try to sit up but you keep getting pushed back down,  
"Don't try to sit up. Do you know how long you've been down here?" Aquaman asks. You try to think,  
"I was... Hel... No, I was reading... I got a headache." You rub your forehead, trying to remember, "Saturday? No, Sunday night." You sigh, the effort of just remembering drains you, but they seem relieved,  
"It's Monday morning.” Flash says, “We were on our way to school and saw the display was knocked over. Got worried when the door was unlocked." You suddenly love these boys. If you didn't know it would put you out of business they would get free comics for life.  
"I'm sure I'm fine," you try to sit up again, feeling strong, though achy from the hard floor, they pull a chair over and help you into it, then they stick around until the ambulance gets there. “Should I send a note or something to school with you boys? Explain to your teachers why you’re late?” Green Arrow laugh,  
“We’re all seniors. At this point first period is optional.”   
“Well, boys, you’d best get going, you’ve done all you can here. We’re going to take her in to make sure everything is okay.” Says one of the EMTs,  
“Alright, should we stop by after school to, maybe, check in?” Flash asks, not sure what he was supposed to do.  
“Nah, it’s fine, kid. I’ll see you on Wednesday, like usual.” He nods, ushering his friends out.  
Later on, after hours of tests and scans, the doctors can't find anything wrong. There was no memory loss, no seizure; you didn't even bruise from the fall. They chalk it up to fatigue coupled with a severe migraine as a side effect of insomnia, and recommend several supposedly good brands of sleeping pills. All the while you're thinking about how you probably already have the best way to knock this boogeyman on his butt. And it's sitting under the front counter in your shop.  
As soon as you get back, you start cleaning up, restocking the scattered Superman comics in their display. As you're finishing your reshelving, you have flashes of comic panels flit across your mind. You try to push them away, but before you know it, you're at your writing desk, in your apartment, bottle of whiskey and crystal tumbler at your elbow and you're drawing furiously. You can't get the ideas on paper fast enough, and you can't stop, you've tried. As you're starting to panic about the impulse, you finally drop your pen, pushing back from the desk and trying to catch your breath. You look at the stacks of paper in front of you and realize you've just drawn your first comic book. The gibberish you had written in your journal suddenly made sense in conjunction with the panels you'd drawn. You also notice the mid morning light filtering in through your curtains, casting shafts of light across the pages of a story you didn't know you had in you.   
"The Purging of Asgard." You whisper into the morning, swiping your arm across your damp forehead and reaching for your tumbler.  
Well then...


	5. Chapter 4

~*~3 weeks later~*~

"Okay, when is the next issue? I'm dyin' here!" Green Arrow pleads with you, your comic has really taken off, with all of your regulars being apparent fans, and even lending their issues to friends.   
"You know I only release one a week, just like any other comic book. Some comics are monthly, or bimonthly. Would you rather that?" You tease.   
"Yeah, yeah," he mutters, giving up, "I guess I'll see you again Saturday, then."  
"Yup, or else you'll never know what happens to Valkyrie." You wink, torturing him.   
“Agh! Why would you do that? What is the point of a teaser like that? You’re killing me!” he’s muttering, melodramatically as Aquaman is pulling him away from the counter, apologizing half jokingly for his friend being such a bother.  
Sometimes it was too much fun to pick on those kids. You could probably release your books daily, you have a few dozen backlogged already, but you wanted to test the waters first and make sure it was a good idea before diving in. Now you just didn't want to overwhelm people. It's probably better if they believe it takes a week or so to write, instead of the feverish hour and a half that leaves you drained and wondering if the whole thing is maybe making you a little crazy.  
Glancing around the store, you see little Thor with his mother semi-patiently urging him to hurry along as she repeatedly checks her watch; he’s trying out the Vertigo comics now, good for him. A few new customers loiter, they are gearing up to be regulars, though you haven't quite named them yet, but even now you’re sure Superman fits one of them. Captain Winter Falcon is in his usual spot, thumbing through the winter solider comics you know he's read several dozen times, and in the back corner, one third of the All-Mother, you heard one of the other girls call her Elizabeth not long ago, is chatting with the Flash. They are actually flirting shamelessly, which they have been doing for several weeks already, but now at least they aren’t separated by the shelves, or much personal space for that matter. You’re just about to go back to some menial work behind your front counter when you see them exchange phone numbers. You pause, unable to suppress the smile and she turns to leave, tucking her hair behind her ear and smiling shyly at him. Just a few steps from the door, her phone pings with a text alert, a message from the Flash that makes her turn and nod, smiling again as she runs to catch up with her friends.  
You give him a thumbs up and a wink when he looks at you, making him smile as a deep blush crawls across his face and up to the tip of his ears. That's you, comic store Yenta. It kind of feels like your little shop family is growing as the Justice League checks out, Flash talking about the upcoming date and all three of them begging one last time for your next book, and you are torn between a feeling of pride at seeing young love blossom, and a pang of loss at never experiencing this yourself, at least not yet. You never even knew your real family; the only memories you have are of the Foster care system, and those you seem to have blocked most of. It wasn't really worth remembering anyway, a dozen or so forgotten birthdays, a few really bad situations, sometimes feelings like a guest, always wondering when you would be moving on again. Never feeling like you were going to stay put for long. Never feeling like you were part of the family.  
Closing time, you close out the register, set your alarm and lock up, then set out on the two block walk to your little apartment. You hug your jacket tighter around you, but the chill you're feeling isn't from the air, for the first time in quite a while, you miss having someone to go home to, instead of the cold, dark shadows that follow you home. No roommates, no pets, not even a plant. You don't remember the last time you felt this lonely. But you just tuck your head and walk. It'll pass. It always does.  
.  
.  
.  
Loki sits in a park, just a handful of blocks from a modest comic book store that seems to have gotten a bit more popular in the past few weeks. The sun is slowly setting, and he watches as the rays paint the buildings around him, orange, yellow, pink, though nothing compared to the colors of the sunsets at home, he almost lets himself relax before he is reminded that he's on a mission. His main trail had gone cold at least two weeks ago, nearly as soon as he had arrived. She may be able to hide for now, but he will find her, and she will pay dearly for this.  
"Mom!" A young boy, maybe ten years old sits with his mother at the other end of the bench, he's reading some sort of Midgardian picture book and pointing frantically at something apparently surprising that has just occurred. Stealing a casual glance, one of the pages catches Loki's attention.   
That couldn't be... But the balcony looks so familiar...  
“Hon, I think this is a little violent, don’t you?” she looks relatively shocked at the depictions of war in this particular issue: stacked bodies wrapped in linen, warriors losing limbs, sometimes their heads, blood spraying or pooling under fallen swordsmen,  
“No, it’s not that bad, really…” he pulls the book to him protectively,  
“But if this is going to disturb you, maybe we should find a different series for you.”  
“No, mom, please, this isn’t disturbing to me, my history book is way worse!” She looks skeptical for a moment,  
“The first nightmare you have, we are putting these away.”  
"What is this book?" He asks abruptly, the woman looks at him oddly, taking hold of her son's arm. "I simply want to know where I may acquire one." He says impatiently, the woman almost doesn't answer, but instead mutters some quick directions to him before taking her son's hand and leading him away.   
"Ma, that was him!" The boy whispers to his mother, just out of Loki's earshot. He gestures frantically at a panel in the comic, a man cradling his dying wife,  
“You’re not pleading a very convincing case for this, young man.” She says, tugging him along.  
He didn't hear their exchange, and he didn't care, he hesitates for just a moment before starting to pick his way through the city to this book seller. By the time he finds the storefront it's obviously closed for the day. So close. He would return soon, it's already dark out.   
There was a single panel in that book, one particular, intimate picture that only one other person could possibly know about. The day he lost his wife, kneeling in the throne room, holding her bloodied, broken body, left alone to mourn his loss.  
During The Purging, many were lost, some being targets, some merely from trying to survive a time of war. Families were torn apart, half a generation lost. He was separated from his love and their child at the same time; he had his only true family ripped from him. He would not hope. He would not believe. He would find this writer and make them tell him where they heard the story.   
The Purging of Asgard.   
His family history.   
He turns without looking, heading down the road to a nearby hotel to find a place to sleep for the night, but he instead runs right into a young woman, knocking her to the ground,  
"Watch where you're going, punk." She spits out at him, rubbing her aching elbow as she pulls herself to her feet.  
"Punk?" He says, astonished at the insolence. "I'll have you know, I'm--"  
"Blocking my door, now move along." He pauses, her door.   
"This is your shop?"  
"That's what I just said, and we're closed for the day, now git." She pulls a keychain from her pocket, making quick work of the front door, but before she could slip through the door,   
"Wait, I have a question about a picture book, that I was told I could find here." She hesitates, then turns and steps out into the light, keeping one hand on the door  
"What did you want to know?" she says with an impatient sigh.  
Those eyes, the set, the shape, the color, her inquiring brow, the set of her jawbone, she can't be,  
"Sigyn..."


	6. Chapter 5

"Say what?" You take a step back, the man's face is obscured by shadow, the nearest streetlamp lighting him from behind. A sudden menace settles in the pit of your stomach,  
"Sigyn... That can't be you..." He steps forward, reaching for your cheek, but you slap his hand away and dart into your shop, locking the door behind you, "no, Sigyn, what are you doing? It's me..." You turn on the lights to ensure you could be seen from the outside. Maybe a patrol would come by soon. The man presses his hands to the glass of your door, the way he's built he could break through without much trouble, surely, but instead he just stands there, looking somewhat confused, and almost hurt, like you've slapped him. You run to the counter where you left your phone... You can't think of who to call, you’ve been a loner since you got out of foster care, so you really don’t have any friends, certainly not around here. Except…  
The Collector. He could help. He said you could call anytime, right?   
As the phone is dialing and ringing, you’re wondering if you should hang up and call the police instead, but you feel like you want someone here that you know. The man steps forward into the light and you finally catch his eyes.   
The comic panel flashes to mind. Loki's eyes burning with anger.  
That familiar pain shoots across your forehead again. No. Not now.   
"Hello?"  
"Hi-- ow... This is Y/N, from the comic store... Ah, geez..." You can hardly think through the haze overtaking you, so you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to alleviate some of the pain,  
"Are you alright, young lady? Do you need help?"   
"Yes! There's a man. Ah, my head...” The vice tightens around the crown of your head, “I'm at the shop... Left my phone... Agh..." You drop the phone in favor of grasping your head, you distantly hear pounding on the front door,  
"Sigyn, what's wrong? Let me in! Let me help you!" You feel a drop of blood fall from your nose, and see it hit the floor in front of you. You drag yourself to the door, your phone forgotten on the floor. Grasping the bar across the door, you hold yourself up and look the man in the eye,  
"I'm not Sigyn. I'm Y/N. And I don't know who you are." You know it's a lie. You know those eyes, even as they are clouded with concern, darkened, but in frustration instead of the hatred you saw in those books; the menace you saw in your dreams.  
...friend... Your mind offers... Love... This doesn't make sense... Trust... No. Enemy. Danger. Stay away. But you just can't get yourself to think of him as a stranger.  
"Get away from my store and don't come back. Help is coming, and if you're still here when they show up, you'll regret it." You know he wants to stay, you can see the reluctance in his eyes; a fear, but a fear for you, not of what may come. He steps back, slipping away into the shadows. You watch him, sweat beading on your forehead from the effort of focusing, until he disappears into an alley across the street and down the block. You sink down to the floor, exhausted, but your headache subsiding. You tell yourself you must stay awake, just awhile longer. Just a bit longer...

A loud rap at the window next to you awakens you with a start, "Miss Y/L/N, are you alright?" Your eyes take their time focusing, the Collector! It's still dark out, so you couldn't have been out long. It takes you a while to unlock the door, your fingers refusing to cooperate. When you get the door open, the Collector helps you to a chair, assessing any damage you may have endured,  
"Your nose. Did he hit you?" He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and starts dabbing at the blood. You just shake your head. You feel mostly like yourself again, but your head is still swimming.   
"I got another headache..." You whisper, your mind starting to work, but the process is like running through molasses. One thing you knew: The familiarity you felt with that man scared you, you have seen him before, but only ever in your dreams or your books.  
You know him. You know it was Loki. Maybe the whole thing was another dream, but then why would the Collector be here?   
"Can you stand?"   
"Hm?" You're so distracted, there is so much that feels like it should make sense that just doesn't fit, "oh, yeah, I'm sure I'm fine."  
"Regardless, let's get you to the hospital, make sure you're alright."  
He takes you to your hospital, where you have the same meetings with a different doctor. Nothing seems wrong. Nothing that could cause headaches like this.   
The Collector takes you back to your apartment, seeing you all the way to your door, keeping a hand near you elbow, at the ready should you feel another episode, as your doctor has taken to calling it, coming on. You can't thank him enough. Just having him nearby is making you feel safer.   
"Again, the offer still stands. If you ever need help, you can give me a call. Obviously I'll be there." He smiles, resting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. You resist the urge to give him a hug... Then throw resistance out the window. You hug him tight, thanking him yet again. For a moment you feel at home. If you didn't know any better you could think this man was your Grandfather. He was young enough to be your father, but with his brown fedora and tan camel hair coat, he seemed more like a grandfather.  
"Something is wrong," he says, reading your expression when you pull away. "What is it?" He presses you,  
"I just can't stop feeling like something big is about to happen. You know that feeling before a big storm? The wind picks up, everything gets a little colder..."  
"Then the sky falls on you." He finishes with a knowing smile, "It’s understandable. You’ve had a rough night. Fight those boogeymen tonight, Chicken Little, everything will feel better in the morning." He tips his hat at you and leaves as you're entering your apartment.   
He made you feel a little better, but you knew he was wrong. This storm was definitely coming but it wasn't going to pass you by, you knew the storm was coming for you.


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terribly sorry it's been so long since I've updated. I have current stories I'm working on elsewhere, all of which will be posted here eventually. To hopefully make it up to you all, I am giving you three chapters at once. :)

Loki ducks down the alley, unwilling to go too far. He leans against the brick wall in the alley, ignoring the putrid smell of the dumpster next to him, flooded with soggy garbage, he hides behind it anyway. He knew her, whether she remembered him now or not, he knew his wife. Yes, she was slightly different. Her hair, her accent, her manner even, but those eyes. He would never forget her eyes. The way they could see through his tricks, the way they would read him in such an unsettling way. He knew he never fooled her, but she stood by him through so much anyway, not because she agreed with him, but because of her inherent loyalty. Sometimes she spoke against his schemes, trying to convince him of the wrong she saw in his decision, but she was by his side through it either way, from his planning and scheming to the inevitable consequences.  
Even after so long he saw her as his one weakness. But losing her once was more than enough. So instead of leaving her, he hid, amid the muck and trash, the grimy bricks and cobbles soaked from the rain this evening, leaving mud stains on his trousers. He allowed himself a peek around the corner, checking on her; he could just barely see the front window. She was slumped against the wall next to the door and he had to force himself to stay where he was, though there were few people out and about on this side of town, he couldn't afford to bring attention to himself just yet. If all has gone as planned, he has followed his escaped prisoner and their helper without being detected and, even for her, he couldn't risk those two jumping to another, perhaps even more advanced, realm. So he sat. Alone in the cold again. Unable to keep his mind from wandering, he remembered when he wasn't alone, remembered a time before his heart was broken. A time when he could still feel.  
He'd had a lovely childhood, he loved his family, at least back when he thought they were his family. The older he got, the colder his heart grew toward them; the more deceived he felt, no matter how he loved Queen Frigga, no matter what brotherly affection he possessed for Thor, he no longer feels the warmth of home, of familial love. Or any love, for that matter. He accepted long ago who he is, that he was always intended to make mischief and chaos, and he knew no one would ever be able to get close enough to fall for him. He would never allow it.  
"Sentiment." He sighs into the deepening night.  
But then she came along.  
In the beginning he thought she may have been able to tame him over time. He let himself let go when he was around her, he felt no need for his tricks. He wanted to be himself for her, so he let her see, let her get close, let his guard down. Then, as was inevitable, she left. She left him alone.  
Not even a goodbye.

Loki is pulled from his bout of bitterness by a faint knocking. Someone had arrived at her shop and was currently trying to rouse her. An old man in a long winter coat, scarf wrapped tight around his neck, features obscured by the shadow from his brown tweed fedora. He knocked, almost frantic, until she sits up, looking groggy, then relieved, and unlocks the door.  
Loki is about to turn, leaving her to her life here, at least for now, before he feels it, a prickling at the back of his neck. They are near. His prisoner and the traitor, he can feel them. He looks back at his Sigyn and he realizes, he's closer to his objective than he thought.


	8. Chapter 7

Inside the fortified walls of Asgard's Citadel, Loki Odinson walks alone. Originally, he had taken to walking these streets out of boredom, but he found he enjoyed seeing the citizens at their menial work; seeing the forge fire perpetually burning, the masons and coopers manipulating stone, metal, and wood; fabric weavers, butchers, bakers, and a tavern at every corner, all alive and busy, the boisterous laughter and storytelling filtering out to the streets and mingling with the chatter of haggling and negotiating from the surrounding shops.  
Mostly, Asgardians bustled around him, taking no notice of him, though a few stopped briefly, to offer a quick bow or curtsy to their prince.  
"Where do you think you're running off to?" An altercation in an alley nearby catches Loki's attention, three men ganging up on a woman, she stood with a headstrong, noble air, a strong posture of defiance. She would surely put up a fight. Loki wondered if he should step in and stop the fight before it started, but then, he was too curious of the outcome.  
The men box her in and she presses as close to the wall as she can, flattening herself against the stones. For just a moment, Loki catches her eye, he expects to see panic, fear, the look of an animal about to succumb to a predator. She winks.   
She winked?   
Loki blinks, initially unsure if he had seen right, but then she is in motion. Striking bare-handed, she twists, punches, and elbows, stepping just so to dodge their blows and throw them off balance, using them as shields against each other. He could have thought it an elaborate dance if not for the sickening crack of a bone giving way or the pop of a joint dislocating whenever her fist or the heel of her hand made contact. The fight was over before Loki even made it to the alley. One man was clutching his dislocated shoulder and spitting out mouthfuls of blood, apparently missing at least one tooth. Another was stumbling away, one of his eyes already swelling shut, both streaming tears as his broken nose gushed blood. The third man was crumpled on the floor by the wall, unmoving, one of his arms in an unnatural angle under him, his broken jaw already bruising. Loki wasn't sure the man was even still alive, but he found he didn't care; he was too preoccupied with the fascinating creature before him. He caught her eye again, but this time he held her gaze, seeing a spark burning there, nearly hidden, an independence and intelligence that he was unused to.   
"Impressive." He says, smirking, she curtsies,  
"Thank you, my lord." She says quietly, with a meekness so contrary to what he had just witnessed.  
"Forgive me, milady, but I do not remember us meeting at court."  
"For good reason, sire. We haven't. I am the Lady Sigyn." She bowed slightly,  
"Goddess of fidelity. You fight like a warrior."  
"Loyalty is not synonymous with being a doorstep." She says defensively,  
"It was meant as a compliment, I assure you. There are not many ladies at court who can fight as you do."  
"I hear the queen can be quite spritely when pressed." This makes Loki laugh, a genuine, amused laugh. The thought of his gentle, loving mother spinning, twisting, and punching as fiercely as this Lady Sigyn was an image that struck him as quite comical. She turns to leave.   
"Wait, would you like to join me?" Loki asks, not wanting to let her go. She looks reluctant at first,   
"You want to take a walk with me?" She asks, seeming confused, "around the city?"  
"Yes. I do. It's a dangerous city. I may need you to defend me." Sigyn chuckles and, agreeing to a walk, she takes Loki's arm. The two of them wandered through the city talking, about food, family, books, fond memories, not-so-fond memories, and found themselves sitting in a courtyard near the palace long after the shift change for the guards. Neither of them knew how long they sat without speaking, and neither of them cared, it was a companionable silence that they didn't feel the need to break.   
"What?" She says suddenly, shifting her gaze from the stars to Loki,  
"What do you mean?" He asks,   
"You've been staring at me for twenty minutes. What?" He had the decency to blush slightly, but her only answer was a mischievous smirk. She opens her mouth to speak before suddenly being silenced by Loki's lips. She freezes, not quite knowing how to respond. But she quickly relaxes into him, sighing into the kiss and leaning closer to the prince.   
Loki's heart races, his kisses becoming feverish, and he tangles his hand in Sigyn's hair, pulling her even closer to him. His left hand slides from her leg to her hip as he feels her fingers slide into his hair...  
"Sir... Sir... Are you alright?" Loki is awakened to find himself still hiding in the alley, being shaken by a man in a greasy white apron. He gets to his feet as quickly as his stiff, joints will allow after him being hunched in a corner all night. He brushes past the man without answering, still in a fog from his dream. He heads to his temporary living space in a nearby high-rise, needing to replace his now stained suit, and shed the grime and stink of the alley.   
'Push it aside. There's too much to focus on. She has to wait.' But he can't shake the ache in his heart.


	9. Chapter 8

After two weeks, several visits to the doctor for blood work and MRIs, every time being told that there is nothing wrong, that you are overreacting, that your imagination is working overtime, etc., you are back at work and trying to act normal, just in time for a new shipment to arrive. You had already spent the better part of the morning organizing the boxes by publisher.  
"Hey, Y/N, do you have the new Thor in yet?" You turn from where you were unpacking the boxes and find the Flash hand in hand with one part of the All Mother.  
"Or the latest issue of Green Arrow?" She adds throwing a sweet smile his direction. Something about seeing a young couple admiring each other's taste makes you a little giddy.  
"Not yet on the Thor, but I was just about to stock some new stuff, and I should be getting the new Green Arrow sometime next week, there was a delay somewhere along the line. I’ll keep you both posted, though." you smile at the young couple and wink at the Flash before going back to your work.  
Opening one of the boxes, you realize it's in the wrong section, but as you pick it up and head across the shop, you knock into a stack of boxes which collide with a new display, sending books sliding all across the floor, including underfoot. You slip on Superman and sprawl on an avalanche of Batman and Robin,  
"...ow." You mutter as the Flash and All Mother come to help,  
Rubbing your elbow and hip, you start piling the Dark Horse comics back into their box before they got mixed into the DC mountain,  
"Thanks, but you really don't have to do that," they brush you off, insisting on helping with the mess.  
Someone passes you a comic, you turn to see who it is and your face goes pale as you stumble backwards, knocking your head against a shelf.  
"Y/N? What's wrong?"  
It was in your head. There was nothing wrong. It was in your head. You're fine. He's harmless.  
"Uh... I slipped. No worries." You mutter as you keep your eyes on the person. The man. The man who was here that night. You try to shake the fear boiling up, not knowing what he's going to do. He holds your gaze for awhile as he helps you, Flash, and All Mother clean up and reorganize before he excuses himself,  
"I swear, I mean you no harm." He whispers so softly, you nearly miss it, then he turns and leaves the shop, not looking back.  
"Well, he was handsome." All Mother says with a wink and a slight nudge. You laugh it off, at least you hope you're laughing, and get back to work.  
You can't get him out of your mind after that; every thought seems to come back to him. Thankfully you were able to handle the rest of the day on autopilot. Organize the books, help a customer, stock the books, help a customer, ditch the boxes by the dumpsters out back, think too hard, help a few more customers. Finally you get to call it a day. Cashing out the register and locking up, you nearly call the Collector to come walk you home, but there are still folks out and about, it's not too late, surely you'll be fine, so you lock up and head toward your apartment.  
A few blocks down the road,  
"Where are you goin’ sweet heart?" Your blood turns cold. Don't turn around; your apartment is a block away, just don't turn around.  
"Hey, I'm talkin’ to you." The footsteps behind you, easily three people, speed up. "Come on, honey, we just wanna have some fun."  
They're too close.  
Run.  
You take off down the road, you can see your building. Just a little farther. You push yourself harder than you ever have, but you've never been a runner and the steps keep getting closer, next thing you know, you feel yourself being jerked down an alleyway, the last alley before your building. You scream as loud as you can, just hoping that someone can hear you. But you know no one will come.  
"Why you runnin’?" The one who has your arm spins you around and slams you into the wall, blocking you there, pressing you against the stone. He has one hand around your throat, the other reaching behind him, producing a knife from his belt, "you afraid or somethin’? I was just tryin’ to talk to you." He was flanked by two other men, the three of them crowding around you.  
You can't scream, you can barely breathe as the first man tightens his hand around your neck.  
"Since you, ran, though, I think I may want more than just a little talk." He runs the knife along your jaw, down the side of your neck, and even lower, catching the front of your shirt and ripping. Down, down, catching your lowest rib on its way. The nick makes you jerk away.  
"Gettin’ feisty are you?" He growls into your ear, he smells like sweat, cheap whiskey, and rotting teeth and it takes everything in you not to vomit. You don’t expect the punch, but it lands solidly on the left side of your jaw. You’re not sure if the crackle you heard was bone crunching or a joint popping, you just know the pain is blinding. He runs his grimy hand up your stomach and over your chest. A tear rolls down your cheek, what's happening?  
"Step back." A commanding voice reverberates down the alleyway,  
"Screw you, finders keepers." The man spits out, he nods to one of his accomplices who turns toward the newcomer.  
"I said..." The newcomer thumps his cane on the ground and a bright flash shines in the alley, accompanied by a jarring rumble, like a concentrated earthquake, knocking the three thugs off their feet, "...step back."  
The man who held you refused to let go, so when he was knocked on his back, you went with him. He jumped up quickly, pulling you closer to him; you saw one of his buddies crumpled against the wall, unconscious, the other disappeared into a dumpster. He held you in front of him, his shield against this odd savior, his knife resting on the side of your neck.  
"Get lost, or you get to mop her up from the drain yourself."  
The stranger stalks toward you and the man, but he kept to the shadows. You could feel the thug shaking, what if he got scared enough… what if he was crazy enough... What were you supposed to do?  
"Get lost, creep, come on." The knife presses harder to your neck, a stinging bite tells you he's broken skin. You hiss against the pain. The stranger pauses at your hiss, then seems to seethe as the top of his cane begins to glow, a brilliant white that grows even brighter. The thug shakes more and more before he finally plants his foot in your lower back and kicks you forward into the man, making a break for it down the alley and around a corner. Meanwhile you've collided with the stranger, who drops his cane and holds you fast. You look up, finally close enough to see his features.  
Angular nose and jaw, pale skin, black hair, eyes... Full of concern, and burning with a rage against the thugs. The man from the store. Again.  
Loki.  
Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know it's true. This is Loki. The Loki from your comics, the god of mischief. And now he was holding you with such familiarity, like a long-time lover. He was protecting you.  
He rescued you.  
You don't know what to say, and as you’re scrabbling for words he takes off his coat, draping it across your shoulders, over your shredded shirt, and for some reason the gesture pushes you over the edge. You start crying, bawling, you pull at his shirt, burying your face in his chest, try to curl into him; the reality of what just happened finally hitting you. But he just sat with you, holding you close, wrapped in his coat, stroking your hair until you were able to calm down.  
"Everything is alright. You are well. Let me take you home. You will feel better in the morning. I promise you."  
.  
.  
.  
You wake the next morning in your own bed, wondering if the whole thing was actually just a nightmare. But on the back of your door you see it hanging; the fly on the wall, the evidence of your unbelievable dilemma.  
Loki's coat.


	10. Chapter 9: The Purging - Part 1

During Odin's reign, before the exile of Thor to Midgard, Hela, the goddess of death, took her revenge on the house of Odin for her appointment as ruler of Hel. Any soul that gained access to Valhalla was out of her reach, leaving her feeling slighted as her realm was overrun with the evil and depraved. Feeling she deserved more and that the inhabitants of the nine realms were cheating her by cheating death, she felt it was time to take the souls that escaped her. When news came to Niffleheim of Loki's expected heir with his wife Sigyn, Hela knew this would be the perfect time to act. When all of Asgard was celebrating the announcement of a royal birth. She struck Asgard in the middle of the night, first imprisoning Heimdall, and cutting down any of the Warriors that stood in her way.  
Determined to gain the souls she felt were wrongly being kept from her, the subsequent war came to be known as The Purging.  
.  
.  
.  
"Loki, you must get yourself out of here."  
"I am not leaving you. Not now." Loki held Sigyn close to him. The Purging had lasted eight months already. Several of Asgard's greatest heroes had fallen to Hela including Volstagg, Skadi, and the Enchantress. "I will not allow you to die for me. Your place is by my side. Now come." He turns to leave, taking her hand, but she slips out of his grasp,  
"If you don't leave now, this will never end." She insists, no longer able to keep her composure and a tear slips down her cheek,  
"Sigyn--" the door rattles with a jarring impact.  
"I will stay with her." Balder rests one hand on Sigyn's shoulder, the other on his sword hilt,  
"Brother, come now!" Thor grabs Loki by the arm, pulling him into the passage where Sif and Fandral are waiting,  
"No! Sigyn! Come with me!" Loki yells, fighting his brother all the while. The hidden door closes behind them.  
"Min kärlek." My love. Was she being selfish? If anything went wrong she surely wouldn't survive. What would Loki do if he lost the both of them? She rests a hand on her belly, so round with child. It wouldn't be long now. She could feel that their child was ready.   
Loki, Thor, Fandral, and Sif were all safe in the passageway, making their way out of the city, when the door finally gives way and Hela barges in, brandishing her sword, flanked by three of her foot soldiers. She quickly scans the room finding only Sigyn with Balder at her side.  
"You think yourself clever, don't you, my queen?" Hela stalks slowly toward Sigyn, "They will not get far. I will finish what has begun."  
"When will you be satisfied? Must more innocence be stolen?"  
"Innocence? These Asgardians you call heroes have stolen what is mine. I am here to take it. Starting with my father. His poison has spread farther than even you may know." Hela's gaze rests on Sigyn's belly, triumph and disgust warring in her expression.   
"I am here with a proposition." Sigyn begins. Balder looks at her, surprised.  
"Following the birth of my child. You may have my life. My soul, for Loki's. He will not be taken to Hel should he fall. Instead take me. Only me. And end this needless war."  
Hela smiles, a cruel expression, chilling Sigyn's blood. Balder's hand tightens on his hilt.   
"I will end nothing. Not until I get what I deserve."  
"Oh, I guarantee that." A flash shines through the room and Sigyn and Balder disappear.   
A moment of confusion and uncertainty passes over Hela's face before she chuckles.   
"Truly the wife of a trickster."  
A sudden pain shoots across Sigyn's belly. She cries out, her illusion faltering.   
The baby.  
"No, no, no, not now. It can't be now." Sigyn mutters, of all the times for this baby to come, now was surely the worst.  
"My lady." Balder reaches for Sigyn, stepping between her and Hela, sword at ready.   
Hela smiles at him sweetly. "Go." She says, and her men are in motion. Though there are half a dozen foot soldiers, Balder makes quick work of them; swords clash, fists fly, bones splinter and blood spurts as he cuts down the last. Hela looks at Balder unamused, "I suppose it's up to me, then." Sigyn cries out again as another contraction overtakes her.  
Hela launches at Balder. She fights like no warrior he has ever seen, with such speed and ferocity, he can hardly keep up. Sigyn tries to conjure another illusion, anything to distract her long enough for Balder to get the upper hand.  
He twists away from her, but she is close behind. She lunges and he parries; he slashes and she sidesteps. Sigyn strains, casting an illusion around Balder, but it fizzles with another sudden contraction. Sigyn hisses in a pained breath, distracting Balder for a split-second; Hela sees her opportunity and fakes a slash, misdirecting him, dodging his return blow once more. She kicks in his knee and kneels, angling her blade. Losing his balance, he falls with a cry onto Hela's waiting blade.  
"No! Balder! No!" Sigyn cries. Grasping her stomach and falling to her knees. Hela retrieves her sword, stalks over to Sigyn, and wrenches her up by the hair.  
"Hela..." She doesn't turn toward Loki's voice. "Hela, no!" She looks Sigyn in the eye and smiles as her sword sinks slowly, smoothly, into Sigyn's stomach.  
.  
.  
.  
(To be continued)


	11. Chapter 10: The Purging - Part 2

Loki feels numb. He watches his pregnant wife sink to the floor, gasping, blood blossoming on the front of her gown.   
He tries to take a breath as he feels the room tilt.  
"Hela." He says, steadying himself, swallowing his tears,   
"Ah, how nice of you to join us," she says, dropping Sigyn who crumbles into a motionless heap.   
"How did this happen? All of my hate. All of my rage. All in you."   
"Please, Father. You knew this was coming." She spits. "I am ridding Asgard of those who should be with me, and bringing them home to my halls."  
Loki strikes swiftly, while Hela is distracted by his double. He steps silently from the shadows behind her, his arm wrapping around her shoulders, he thrusts his sword through her back.  
She cries out as the blade tears through her stomach. The Loki-illusion fades away, now nothing but a sparkling cloud, "I am sorry I did this to you." He whispers into her ear, "but this ends now." He twists the sword, ripping another scream from her before she goes limp and he lets her fall. Her eyes staring but no longer seeing, blood staining the stone floor beneath her.   
"I am sorry, my daughter." He closes her eyes before running to Sigyn's side, lifting her into his lap,   
"Sigyn… look at me, mitt hjärta. Look at me." Her eyes slide open, she smiles a dazed smile, her hand finding his cheek.   
"Hello min kärlek," she whispers, "I'm afraid I made a mistake." A tear slips down her ashen cheek, she could feel herself slipping away. The stillness in her belly told her their child was gone. Her heart broke for Loki. "Don't cry. Don't worry. It doesn't hurt, darling." Her thumb strokes his cheek, smudging the blood.   
Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't let her see you cry. He nods to her, holding her close. He feels her breath become more labored. More shallow. He sees the spark behind her eyes go dull as she slips beyond his reach. Her hand falls from his cheek, leaving the bloody print of her hand, an angry ghost of his loss.   
Don't let her see you cry. He rests his chin on her head looking out the window, beyond the balcony at the sunset. It was all over. She can't see him anymore. And he can't stop the tears as they soak his face.   
.  
.  
.  
Loki awakes in his penthouse, face wet with tears. He sits up, hand going to his cheek and wiping away the tears; he rolls out of bed, trudging to the window, and watches the beginnings of dawn creep through the city below his window. Leaning his forehead on the chilled window, his breath fogs the glass, obscuring the sight he is ignoring as the memory he has tried to forget insists on consuming him.   
.  
.  
.  
The next day, Loki risks another trip to the comic store, his quest nearly forgotten. He had to see you. Had to know you are alive and well. He walks in cautiously, trying to blend with the few people who are dawdling before closing time.  
"Thanks, I'll see you two next week." He hears you say as you finish helping what seems to be a young couple. They walk out hand in hand, whispering to each other, something about a lantern and a fish hybrid called an Aquaman. Loki has always found midgardians to be an odd race.   
You see him and pause. He freezes not wanting to frighten you again. The last of the customers walk out, and he's about to follow,  
"Wait." You say quickly, "Please, just hang on a second." So he pauses, turning slowly. Seeing you pull a dark bundle from under the counter.  
You can't hide your nerves as you approach him, "I just... I wanted to say thank you and return your coat... And... I'm sorry."   
"Sorry?" He asks.   
"For the first time you came by. I got a little spooked... I've been a little off lately."   
"I assure you there is nothing to apologize for. I am sorry I frightened you. You just remind of someone. Someone who was very dear to me."  
You think for a moment, 'was', past tense, the realization hits you and you drop the subject. You both stand in almost awkward silence for a minute or two, not quite knowing what to say.  
"Well, I have to finish closing up here, but I had to thank you. I don't want to think of what would have happened."   
Loki nods with a small smile and turns to leave. He stops with his hand on the door,  
"Would you like me to wait? Outside? I could walk you home again. Just to make sure you’re safe."   
Say no, say no, say no. You still don't know anything about this man.  
"Uh... If... I guess, if you want."   
Really?  
You could use the security on the way home, but is it really security if you don't know him? You mentally slap yourself. For heaven’s sake, he saved you. He's already walked you home once, so it's not like he doesn't know where you live.  
He nods again. "I'll be just outside." He steps out and you're left kicking yourself and wondering if you're making a huge mistake. You're so distracted, you have to recount the drawer four times. Finally you've closed out the drawer and locked up, though you're still sure you've forgotten something.   
On the way home, you try to make small talk to alleviate the awkward silence and soon you've relaxed enough that you are actually joking with him. Once you could swear you even made him laugh. This grim, overly-serious, heartbroken character.  
"Well, this is me." You announce. He looks up at your building, "Thank you for walking me back." You've gotten so comfortable with him you are resisting the urge to ask him up. It just feels so natural to be around him now, you don't really want him to go. At least there were no headaches or nosebleeds this time.  
Well, baby steps.  
"Have a lovely evening." He says gently with a slight bow,  
"Thanks, goodnight." You lean in and kiss him before you know what you're doing. He blinks in surprise and you gasp.  
You turn and run inside without another word. What was that? What possessed you to think that that was a good idea? Did you even think?  
You don't stop running until you've made it to your apartment and are leaning against the inside of your door.   
"Great. I'm crazy. That sure explains a lot." You groan. As much as you wanted to believe that you didn't know him, that you should be afraid of him, there was a strange feeling in your gut. Not only do you know him. Love him even.   
Whoa, there...  
Not only do you know him, you also know he is in big trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm horrible about posting in a timely fashion, so I apologize to those of you who have been reading. I'm trying to post more steadily, but I'm getting ready to move and start school next month, so unless I manage to develop super-human time management skills in the next month, I can't guarantee anything. ;)  
> I am planning to post a few more chapters tonight and tomorrow, though. I don't know why the revising process is taking so long.
> 
> Thank you for reading! And also for bearing with me!  
> (P.S. More series' to come, including an RPF for Iain de Caestecker, a couple of Chris Evans fics, and a Winter Soldier fic. Possibly some one-shots if y'all are interested!)


	12. Chapter 11

You wake none too gracefully, sprawled like a starfish, knotted in your sheets and quilt, hair wrapped around your face. You think about burrowing back under your covers, visiting the man of your dreams again, lazing about the lawns of Asgard, watching your children play and argue and make friends, getting glimpses of the life you'll never have. The ache is too real, the heartbreak from a loss you may not have actually lost. You need to get up.   
You're trying to get ready for work, brushing your hair, brushing your teeth when you realize the ache isn't just heartsickness; your gaze drifts down to an old scar you often forget about, which is surprising, gruesome as it is. Appendectomy? Slipping out of a tree? You don't even remember the cause now.  
You stare at it in the mirror, the jagged purple mark on your stomach, ringing a bell from some memory hidden in the back of your mind. You run your finger over the marred skin, hissing as a dull pain shoots across your abdomen.   
That wasn't normal.  
"Momma! Váli is being mean again!" You yelp, spinning around to find a little boy, about 6 years old, running to you, latching onto your leg. You look down at his pleading green eyes... Where have you seen those eyes? He looks at you expectantly and you awkwardly pat his head. He’s real… He must be your neighbor's boy. Did any of your neighbors have children?  
You have neighbors, right?  
"Uuh... Who are you? How did you get in here?" You try to gently extricate the boy from your leg, but he insists on staying where he is,  
"Momma, please, he told me there is a bilge-snipe under my bed and that it'll eat me if I don't give him my sweets after supper tonight." He reaches up, wanting you to pick him up.   
Was he calling you 'Momma'?   
"Okay... Come on, let's go find your mommy." You hoist him up to your hip where he clings to you like a koala, and you hobble with him down the hall to your front door, ready to knock on some doors and find this boy's mother.  
"Momma, is there really a bilge-snipe under my bed?" He snuggles closer to you, you don't know how to react.  
And what was a bilge-snipe?  
"Mother, it was just a tease." You hear another voice from behind you.  
You spin around and find another young boy, around 10 or 11, "I didn't think he would actually believe me." Even you can tell he's lying,  
"Of course he would believe you, he's too young to know any better… Now where do you live?" The boy ignores your question and raises his hands in mock surrender.   
Loki.   
He looks just like Loki when he does that.  
"Come on, Narvi, it was just for fun." He says to the frightened boy in your arms. Narvi looks at Váli, considering something, before squirming his way out of your arms and running off with him into the kitchen. You hear them giggle as you follow them, and you could swear that you only lose sight of them for one second,  
"Boys, come on now, I need you to help me find your parents. You don't belong--"   
Empty. No one in the kitchen. No one in the living room. No little voices or giggling.   
You check the front door, still closed.   
Still locked.  
A chill runs through you, like a draft slithering through your apartment.   
Shake it off. Pull yourself together. The doctors keep saying you're fine. So why are you seeing children running around your apartment? That little one felt real enough, your arm was still a little tired from holding him,  
Go back to your room, get ready for work, you're probably just tired, or you were sleepwalking,  
"Mitt hjärta..." You spin around,  
No one.  
"Mitt hjärta, why would you leave me?" The draft picks up to a swirling breeze in your bedroom, a frigid winter wind, biting at your skin and making your teeth chatter,  
"You won't hide much longer," a new voice, your turn in circles around your room trying to find the source of these voices, you know them, but you don't know them. Such familiar strangers, "I will find you... My Queen..."   
Hela...  
"...Help us!"  
"...Save me, lady Sigyn!..."  
"...My lady!"   
The voices all overlap, screaming in agony, yelling abuse, cursing you, calling to you. You press your palms into your ears but you can't drown them out, you squeeze your eyes shut, sinking to your knees,   
"Go away..." You whisper, at least you think you do, "leave me..." You curl in on yourself, the voices growing louder and louder,  
*KNOCK KNOCK*  
Silence.  
No voices. No wind. No chill.  
The knocking continues. Your front door.   
Take a breath, just go answer the door.  
"Coming, hold on!" You stumble to the door, pulling yourself together before you open the door to a very worried looking neighbor.  
So you do have neighbors.  
"Is everything alright?" She asks carefully,  
"Of course," you lie, "why do you ask?"  
"It's just... And it's probably not of my business..." She stammers, clearly uncomfortable, "you were yelling. Screaming, actually. You sounded like you were in a lot of pain. Just wanted to make sure you were okay."   
"Screaming?" Okay, then, "Oh, that. It was... Uh... Spider."  
"A spider?"  
"Yeah. Crazy arachnophobic, that's me. But I took care of it. Sorry if I bothered you. But I appreciate the concern." You close the door, perhaps a little too quickly, but you had to get out of here.  
You welcome the mundane work of your shop today, you've had enough excitement for the year, bring on the boring workdays.  
The bell above your shop door jingles,  
"Good afternoon." That voice. You turn around, smiling lightly at your mysterious stranger   
"Good afternoon." You fidget for a moment, getting an idea, "Can I ask a favor?"  
"Anything." He says without hesitation,  
"Could we... Do you think... Could we talk?"  
He pauses, looks you in the eye, and nods.


	13. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY this took so long, I really wanted to revise it in depth before I posted it and I didn't have time until now.  
> I'm proud of it now, though! :) Enjoy

You post an "out to lunch" memo and lock the door, to keep from being interrupted.   
"So, we haven't properly met. My name is Y/N." You say extending your hand in formal introduction, he takes it gently, but instead of a handshake, he chastely kisses your knuckles,   
"It's a pleasure." He says quietly. The gesture takes you so off guard that you forget you don't actually know his name, at least not for sure.  
"What made you come by that first night?" You ask and wait as he thinks back, it had to have been about a week ago, now.  
"I saw your 'comic' book. A young boy was reading it in the park. He and his mother told me you wrote them yourself, I had to come and see."  
"Oh, yeah, just some ideas that would come to me throughout the day. Sometimes I'd even dream them up."   
"There was a picture in it that looked familiar." He says carefully, "It made me think you might be someone else."  
"Sigyn." You say, the name ringing a distant bell in the back of your mind. He nods.   
"...Sigyn..." You hear a whisper. But the store is empty except for the two of you,  
"Did you hear that?" He shrugs, shaking his head slightly, "I must be hearing things." You joke, but neither of you are laughing, "look, there is something I wanted to tell you, but I'm afraid it might sound weird. Especially since we barely know each other," he chuckles a little  
"Well enough that you kissed me goodnight last night." Your face flushes slightly,  
"I don't know where that came from, I wasn't really thinking and I'm sorry."  
"Oh, don't apologize." He says, stepping closer, definitely in your personal space now, but you're backed against the counter, there's no where to go. "Do you want me to leave?" He whispers, so close to you, sensing your tension.   
Yes. Say yes. Tell him to leave. Something is wrong here.  
"No," you confess, "don't go." He leans, just slightly,  
"...Lady Sigyn..." You turn toward the noise, you were sure no one else was here.   
"What is it?" He asks, clearly worried.  
"Um... I'm sure it's nothing..." You catch a glimpse of a child, the child from this morning, running around the corner of one of the shelves, you start toward him but before you take two steps, he's gone.   
"...Accept it..." A breath right by your ear, you try to bat the man away, but it wasn't him, he's leaning against the counter, watching you,  
"What are you seeing?" He asks, entirely too calm right now.  
"What?"  
"You are having a vision, possibly hearing something. What is it?"   
"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea." Air. You need air.   
You head for the door,   
"Sigyn, wait." He says, you spin to face him,  
"Why do you keep calling me that?" Your eyes well, fear creeping in on you again. "Who are you?" You ask in frustration, though you aren’t sure to whom the question is truly directed,  
"You know who I am." He starts toward you, "I am Loki, and you are Sigyn." 

You can't move. You can barely see straight, but not from a headache this time. The walls of the shop melt away until you stand in a courtyard, townspeople milling around you, going about their normal day, and Loki standing in front of you, smiling brightly, looking at you like you are the only other one there. He steps forward, taking your hands. He says something. You can't hear him, like he's too far away, or you're separated by a wall, but then he kneels, and the message is clear.   
"Marry me, mitt hjärta." You're crying, your heart breaking. This. This is what you lost. This is what you miss so bitterly.   
"Sigyn." The scene melts away in a fog, Loki stands before you. You're back in the comic store. You look in his eyes.   
The now familiar pain shoots across your forhead as all of your memories flood back all at once, dream and reality warring: the walk through Asgard the day you met superimposed on the day you left the Foster system, finally closing that wretched chapter of your life; your courtship with Loki disagreeing with the string of dead-beat boyfriends you’ve had; announcing your engagement and opening your bookstore; your marriage and your empty apartment, your first child, Váli. Of course.   
No, not real.   
Yes. Of course he’s real. You could never forget him. You could never leave him.  
You feel the blood drip from your nose. No, not again. No more.  
You reach for him, pulling him to you.   
"Loki," you breathe. He’s there, holding your hand. As he did that first evening in the Citadel, as he did at your wedding. As he did the day the Purging separated you. Your vision clears, the pain ebbing away. He’s there,  
"My husband.” He nods, his jaw set, not daring to hope. “Min kärlek." A tear rolls down your cheek as he wraps you in his arms. He leans toward you but you pull back with a gasp, "they’re coming."  
The front window of the shop shatters inward in a hail of shrapnel, Loki pulls you down behind a shelf, shielding you from the glass,  
"How sweet." A familiar voice snarls, "you excel at running and hiding, I'll give you that. It took far too long to find you. Unfortunately for you, now I am rather upset."  
You and Loki look up into the reborn face of Hela.


	14. Chapter 13

Loki gets to his feet, pulling you up with him, being sure to stay in front of you, acting as your shield from Hela.   
"Honestly, I think I should be commended for my patience. Have you any idea how long I have waited for this?" She says, leaning on your front counter, that's when you recognize her,  
"You... I know you... You're a regular." It took a short while to place her, her fierce expression so different from the usually mild, sweet, smiling features of 'little Thor's’ mother. But now there is no mistaking the two women are one and the same. You had seen her every week and not even known it.  
"How? How are you here?" Loki asks in disbelief, keeping you safely at his back.  
"Well, Dear Father, it seems I inherited far more than just your rage. When you ran me through, stabbing me in the back like the coward you are, I discovered something fascinating. I did not truly die. I awoke seven days later in my own halls. No sign of a wound. Reborn."   
"Reincarnated." He says, blood draining from his face. What else had she inherited from him? "But how did you come to be here?" He asks, trying to distract her as he gently nudges you to make toward the door.   
Hela produces a handgun from her waistband, and without hesitation, she shoots the shelf next to your hip, stopping you in your tracks. You yelp, checking to see if you or Loki have been hit, but it seems to have just been a warning.  
"You cannot outsmart me again, Father. Today, I will get what I want." She raises the gun again, "I just wanted to say hello again before I say goodbye."   
You see her finger tightening on the trigger and tackle Loki to the ground just as you hear a shot go off, but it hits the ceiling, embedding itself in the plaster. Hearing a struggle, you look up to find a familiar camel-colored coat on your rescuer.   
The Collector?   
"Mr..." You realize you don't even remember his real name, "...sir, what are you doing?" You yell, afraid of what is coming,  
"My lord, it may be wise to remove yourself and your wife to a more secure area."  
My lord?   
"Balder," you hear Loki breathe, "you're alive."  
"I shall endeavor to explain later, should I make it out of here," he struggles valiantly with Hela, who seems to be much stronger than she looks.   
Another shot goes off, again into the ceiling. He wrenches her arms to the side and head-butts her, square in the forehead.  
She staggers, losing her grip in her disorientation. Balder grabs her arm, pulls her down to the floor, pinning her onto her stomach with his own weight.   
"I would suggest you move as little as possible." He growls at her as she squirms. He presses the muzzle of the gun to the base of her skull. "Don't. Move." He presses her arm farther up her back, earning a gasp of discomfort.  
"Balder." You say to no one in particular as you make it to your feet. You are trying to wrap your head around all of this. It seems like you never left Asgard after all, but you remember seeing Balder fall. You saw Hela killed by her own father. What is happening in the other realms that you were all here?  
"It is good to see you are well, My Lady," he says to you softly, "what would you like done with this one? Shall I dispatch her?"   
"No." Loki speaks up, coming to stand behind you. "She would just come back. We need a more permanent punishment."   
"No one move!"   
"Drop the gun! Sir! Drop the gun and let me see your hands!"  
Police.   
You fall to your knees, raising your hands, discreetly telling Loki to do the same,  
"Why? We haven't done anything." He mutters,  
"But they don't know that yet. Just get down."  
When you see them cuffing Balder you realize they have the wrong impression.   
“It wasn’t him!” you call,  
“And who are you?” The cop asks turning to you, keeping a firm grip on Balder’s cuffed hands,  
“I’m the owner of this store and this,” you nod to Loki, “Is… My husband. You’ve just arrested the man who saved us.” You tell the officer to check your purse behind the counter, so he rifles around until he finds your wallet, checking the ID closely,   
“She’s tellin’ the truth, let the man up.”   
“It was her.” Loki says, pointing to Hela, her scowl deepening,  
They cuff Hela, pulling her up from the floor. She smiles at you and you feel your blood turn cold. This isn't over.  
One of the other officers takes your account of what happened as Hela is led out. He informs you that a customer in a nearby shop heard the explosion when the front window was blown in and called the police after they heard the gunshots. After answering so many questions that you had lost count, some of which you’re sure had been repeated, the police head out, asking you to come by the precinct the next day to give a formal statement.   
You close the door behind the young officer and turn back to Loki and Balder, heaving a sigh.   
You open your mouth to speak, but you're stopped when you hear a commotion outside. The cops are barking orders, several break off into groups and start running down alleys or streets, guns drawn.  
You step out the door, slowly walking toward the car Hela was forced into. An officer was standing in the open door calling for back up and an ambulance, though you knew the EMTs wouldn't be needed. The officer doesn't quite block your view of the young policeman in the front seat, his neck split open, blood flow already halted. Hela is no where to be seen.


	15. Chapter 14

You get shooed away from the scene by the policeman, trying to ensure nothing gets contaminated.  
"I suggest we relocate before the back up arrives," the Collector-- no, Balder says. He leads you and Loki through an alley nearby to the next street over, then across the street to another alley. After zigging and zagging for a few blocks, all three of you keeping your ears open for Hela, he opens the back door of an apartment building.   
"14th floor. I'm afraid we have a bit of climbing to do."   
You are winded by the time you make it to his apartment, which is far nicer than your own. You're not sure why that surprises you.  
"You said you would explain. So what do you know?" Loki says, hardly having broken a sweat on the hike up the stairs,  
"For goodness sake, Loki, give him a moment..." Though Balder seems to be in even better shape than Loki, "or at least give me a moment."   
You brace yourself against the wall. Strain from the thirteen flights of stairs aside, you were still reeling from everything that had happened in the last two hours.   
You are Lady Sigyn. Princess of Asgard.  
You were in Asgard for the Purging.  
Your husband, Loki, is alive.  
You are alive.  
How are you alive?  
Why are you alive?  
You keep expecting to wake up, thinking this is just another dream or another hallucination. You remember your childhood... Don't you? It was hard to forget all of the foster homes, from the fairytales you had wished would last, to the nightmarish years of dodging your lecherous foster father or tiptoeing around the touchy, controlling devil known as your foster-mom. All the years you spent at school, the friends you never managed to keep.   
"Fabricated memories." Balder says, he's been watching you, seeing you try to make sense of everything. "It has been a generation in Asgard since The Purging. Following your death, you were taken to Hel instead of Valhalla." You remember.  
"A trade." You say, sorting everything out loud. You look at your husband, he meets your gaze, incredulous.  
"You tried to trade for me?" You nod,  
"I couldn't bear the thought of her taking you to that place. You being tortured like that for eternity. I had to."  
"But--"  
"Then, somehow, you broke free." Balder cuts Loki off, "do you remember how?"   
You think. You really try to remember, but after this afternoon, you can't quite tell what's real and what's a dream. Or were all of your dreams real? Just memories trying to come through. Does that mean that your reality has been a dream?  
Finally you shake your head,   
"I'm sorry. I don't remember." A door opens down the hall,  
"Balder? the All-Father said he heard you come in--"   
"Lady Sif!" You immediately recognize her, but she stops short, not even acknowledging you, she stares, frightened, at Loki. You look at him, his eyes burning with anger. He launches at her, pinning her to the wall before any of you can react,  
"You traitor!" He screams at her, "where is he?" Balder pulls him away from Sif, holding him back,  
"Loki! What has gotten into you?" You yell,  
"You will not lay a finger on him." Sif spits out, "He is the rightful king, and Thor after him. You have usurped a throne to which you have no claim! You, Loki Laufeyson, are the traitor!"  
This makes you pause, "Laufeyson? Traitor?"   
"A generation is a long time. You have missed much, Lady Sigyn." Balder says.   
“In the years following the purging, Loki seemed a valuable, honorable ally. That is, until Thor’s coronation. After leading a half dozen Jotuns into the weapons vault, he proceeded to sow discord and chaos, culminating in the near assassination of his own brother.” Sif proceeds to fill you in on the events that followed his havoc in Asgard, and at the same time you slowly you remember everything before the Purging.  
She tells you of Loki discovering his ancestry, you suddenly remember your wedding day; she tells of the attack on Jotunheim, you remember the blade in your stomach. Then there was the incident in New York followed by his incarceration in the dungeons of Asgard. You remember Hel, the screams of tormented souls, the constant excruciating pain, the emptiness and loneliness and suffocating heartbreak.  
You remember now. You fought her. She had taken him.   
She still has him.  
"We all thought you dead." Sif says to Loki, bringing your focus back, "Thor told us you died nobly. Honorably. But it was yet another trick."   
You can't even look at Loki now. What happened to him? He was always mischievous; it was in his nature, but this...  
"Why, Loki?" You ask quietly, fearing the response.  
He takes so long to answer you begin to wonder if he will.  
"I had nothing left to lose, so I tried to take what I wanted... It was never enough."  
You try not to think about the lives lost. The cold loneliness and desperation. The change that would have had to have taken place in him for that sort of betrayal.  
A tear falls, against your wishes.  
You turn on Loki, slapping him.   
"You were meant to go on!" You scream at him, "That was the whole point! You get to live on! You go on and create new memories, go on and love again. Go on and remember! That was the point!" You cry freely, finally forcing yourself to look into his eyes.  
"I couldn't." He whispers, a small tear escapes his control, rolling down his cheek, "There was nothing left for me to live for."  
You turn down the hall in a huff, you can't even look at him right now. Everything you did was worthless if this is how he lived now. You close yourself into the first room you could find.  
"Lady Sigyn." You spin around,  
"All-Father."


	16. Chapter 15

***GRAPHIC VIOLENCE***  
Idiotic Midgardians. They think rings of steel will keep me bound. I act like I'll cooperate just long enough to be forced into the back of one of their garishly primitive vehicles. A young police officer locks me into the backseat and confers momentarily with a man I assume is his superior. While they talk, I break through the cuffs with ease, but I stay put, waiting to make my move.  
He climbs into the front seat, the other man moving away, Sigyn is walking back toward the small storefront. I pull the small dagger from my boot and, tearing down the flimsy steel partition, I wrench the officer's head back by his hair. The dagger slices deeply, smoothly, the movement so quick he looks surprised when he sees the jet of arterial blood splash off the window next to him. He tries to cry out, call for help, yell in pain, it all comes out a pathetic gurgle, spewing bloody foam all over himself. His hands fly to his neck, a vain effort to staunch the flow of his life's blood as it flows forth, like water from a burst dam.   
I climb over the seat and jump out the door opposite him, swiftly, silently, not even sparing a glance as he gurgles pitifully behind me. I stuff my hands in my pockets and saunter down the road, as though nothing is wrong and turn down the first alley I come to. With Balder and my Father protecting the would-be Queen, I would not be getting anywhere near her today. So I head to my own home to bide my time. I'm already down the alley when I hear shouting, I'll be long gone by the time they think they've caught my trail.  
I dodge down alleys and double back a few times before, a few miles later, I take a moment outside my townhouse, my home. I catch my breath, though I'm hardly winded, and collect myself. Straightening my jacket and blouse, smoothing back my hair, I step inside and am immediately greeted by frustrated mumbling coming from the kitchen,  
"Momma?"  
"I'm here Aren." My son pokes his head around the corner, he looks confused,  
"I can't figure out how to solve this problem. I thought I did what Mr. Brooks said, but it doesn't work."   
"Alright then, let's take a look."  
I sit with him at the kitchen table and help him through the mindless routine of working on his mathematics and English exercises. I go through the motions: ‘no, you’ve forgotten to carry this number’, ‘the next step for this is to divide’, ‘no, that’s not how commas work.’ This goes on for several hours, then I would make him dinner, put together a lunch for him to take in the morning, make sure everything is set for him to take to school, and after the normal bedtime routine of teeth brushing and showering, I tuck him in, allowing him an hour of reading time before he had to turn off his bedside light. Tonight something seems a bit different though, he’s more melancholy than I have seen him in a while, he didn’t even choose a book. I try to ignore it, thinking he is simply tired, but he catches my hand before I can leave the room,  
“What’s wrong, Aren?”  
“Will you sit with me for a little while, Momma?”  
“Of course, what’s the matter?” he scoots over in his bed, making room for me, then curls up into my side. “Aren?”  
“I had a bad dream last night, now I don’t want to sleep tonight.”  
“Maybe if you read it will help take your mind off of it.” I offer, but he shakes is head, “Are your comic books causing the nightmares? Because I could also tell you no more comics at night.” His eyes widen for a moment at that,  
“It was just a scary dream, but I can’t stop thinking about it. I don’t want to dream it again.”  
“Well, if you tell me about it, maybe I can help you stop being scared.” He seems to consider it for a moment, then pushes himself up, scooting back to sit against the headboard of his bed.  
“Well, I think I was in Asgard,”  
“Your comics, maybe you shouldn’t read them so late anymore,”  
“No, that’s not the scary part. I’ve never seen dogs in Thor comics before.”  
“Dogs?”  
“Yeah, big ugly ones. Like, giant. Their fur was falling off and they were all beat up, they looked gross. But There was a woman there, it didn’t really look like you, but I think it was..."  
"Who did it look like?"  
"I don't remember her face, it just felt like you... We were standing in the Throne Room and one of the dogs jumped on you…” He pauses, looking terrified, “I think they killed you. And then they came after me.” He looks to be on the verge of tears, so I hug him close,  
“It’s okay, honey, it’s just a dream. A bad one, but it’s just a dream. I’m still here, right?” he nods, “And you’re still here. Nothing is going to hurt you here, I promise.”   
I feel him relax a little bit and coax him down under the covers, kissing his forehead as I tell him goodnight. Pausing at the doorway, I watch him bunch the covers up over his head. His favorite position when he’s scared. I feel a tug in my heart knowing what’s coming, but right now I keep thinking about how Aren has turned out to be a surprisingly good child. I have never heard a cross word about him from his teachers, he excels in every class, though he doesn't seem to have any friends. Sometimes I catch him staring out the window, completely lost to his own imagination, mentally in a totally different realm. In those times he looks so much like his father. If I had any feeling left for that man, the remembrance of him may have tugged at my heart. Now I lean against the doorframe of my son’s room, watching him try to cocoon himself against a nightmare, surrounded by his beloved comic books, posters, and movies about what are known here as super heroes, and I think 'this wasn't part of the plan.'


	17. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HA!! Another chapter!! I'm so sorry, everyone! I know it's been at least a month. Life has been insane with this move, starting college again, blah blah blah, I'll see how many chapters of all three fics I can get up tonight, I feel so bad for just leaving you all in the cold.   
> So, enjoy!

You sit on a chair in the corner of the bedroom, after being caught up by the All-Father. There were certain things Sif either didn't know, or she left out. Odin didn't sugar coat anything, from his own actions of taking Loki as a baby, to Loki's incarceration, you got all the information you needed. Most of it you didn't want. This all still feels surreal. You have moments of feeling like Lady Sigyn, talking about your time in Asgard, your life with Loki. Then you have moments when it sounds absurd, your mortal memories pressing through, making you second-guess everything you think you know. Now, sitting across from Odin, you are warring a little less with yourself over your own identity and a little more over how you should deal with Loki.   
You know him. You know the mischievous prince who would conjure the illusion of a snake in the middle of a banquet just to startle an unsuspecting Asgardian maiden. You know the sincere prince who gave his heart to you, promise a thousand lifetimes to you, began a family with you. You rest your hand over your lower belly, you had been... the pair of you had started your family... almost. You shake off the nagging feeling of loss, trying to deal with the issue at hand,  
"What am I supposed to do, All-Father? He has hurt or killed so many, his crimes have gone unpunished. And I have trouble remembering what was and what wasn't... I have a life here that I'm content with." It only slightly feels like a lie.  
"My child, your fidelity to your husband has surpassed all before you, earning you recognition as a goddess. You have shown yourself just, fair, loving, and strong willed in your own right. You are perfectly capable of making that decision. So how do you think you should proceed? You will not be criticized if you choose to leave him and remain here as the mortal you have believed yourself to be. Is he worth it to you to stay through his punishment and any impending consequences?"  
You stare into the corner of the room, at nothing in particular, thinking, knowing the time to choose is coming soon. You feel the tensions boiling, Loki has been locked away in another room, being watched by Balder to ensure he stays not only safe, but out of trouble, but you know that will only last so long.   
"By rights, the throne should pass to Loki now." You look at Odin, thoroughly confused, as he mutters to himself. He looks up, almost startled that he had failed to mention, "Thor abdicated. Relinquishing his claim in favor of spending what fleeting time he may with a mortal. A woman he considers his love."  
"Love? Thor? The headstrong, petulant, arrogant, boy prince found a woman to love him? A mortal at that. Honestly you're out of the loop for a generation and you miss all kinds of things." Odin chuckles, though there is an edge of bitterness. Now that you know who, and what, you are, it must be expected of you to return to Asgard. But you're not sure you're ready to let go of this life.   
"All-Father." Sif bursts in, "We have news."  
"What is it, Lady Sif?" He asks quickly,  
"Balder sensed an odd disturbance in the vicinity. A sort of power fluctuation not common in this realm. Together we seem to have placed its origin, and the house is not far from here. We believe it to be Hela's stronghold, and we believe she is not alone.  
.  
.  
.  
"Mom. I had a bad dream again." Aren trudged into my room around nine o'clock. The boy normally slept like the dead, but lately he'd been having the strangest nightmares, falling through a rainbow, a crushing darkness; once it was nothing but a voice, or rather, a scream, a woman wailing a name, seemingly in mourning. The dreams seemed to be triggered by the comics he read, but I made him stop for a while and that didn't change anything.  
I gesture for him to join me, as I did every other time, and he hops into my bed, curling up under the covers.   
"What was it this time?" I ask, only half listening. I had remembered something earlier this evening that would certainly help to further my mission but it required a bit of research. I used my computer, bemoaning the archaic technology, and waded my way through various web pages of brainless banter, theories, and conjecture on the subject before finally coming across exactly what I needed.  
Aren catches my attention when he mentions that I was in his dream this time.  
"You looked weird, though. Like, you were really pale, and only had half a face, and you were dressed kinda funny. But the worst part was that..." He looks like he doesn't really want to go on, like the dream was too horrible.  
"What was it?" I prompt. He takes a breath,  
"It just... It felt like you wanted to hurt me. You were reaching for me, but the look on your face…”   
"Aren..." I hesitate, unsure what to say, "you know I wouldn't hurt you, right? I'm here to keep you safe." I feel cold. An odd chill, like I've missed something that could unravel everything I've done so far.  
"I know, momma. This was just a really scary one." Too long. He took just long enough to respond, I know something is wrong.  
"Was there anything else, sweetie?" The endearment always felt odd, but it seemed to put him at ease most times.  
He pauses again,  
"No." He lies, even tries to offer me a smile I can see right through.  
"Did you want to sleep in here tonight?"   
"No, I think I'll be okay. Talking about it helped. Goodnight, momma."  
"Goodnight." He shuffles back to his own room. I know I have to work quickly. It's only a matter of time before we're discovered here, and now I see. He knows something, and he may not even know he knows it. As much as I hate to admit it, as much as I've tried to prepare myself for what's coming, I find myself wondering if I actually want to do this.  
I shake those thoughts from my mind and turn back to my reading.   
I have to follow through. I have to finish this.   
I have to win.


	18. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short, sorry!

Almost midnight. Aren seems to be fast asleep, I haven't heard anything else from him all night. A few more ingredients and I would have the help I need.   
I kneel in the center of my living room, facing the window, the bowl of herbs in front of me. I take a deep breath.   
"In the name of Buri, father of Bor. Komma till mig. By Mephisto's realm, for the freedom of Hel, vara min krigare." A breeze ruffles the curtains by the open window. It's working.  
"I namn av Buri. Komma till mig." The wind picks up, filling the room. "Genom Mephisto rike, för friheten av Hel, vara min krigare."   
The wind began swirling through the room, roaring in my ears. "Komma till mig, vara min krigare!" A raven lands on the window sill, then joined by another, then two more, they fly through the room, joined by still more, following the raging current of the wind. I hear distant howling. Listen as it comes closer, the snarling of wolves getting louder.  
"Come to me!" I yell, "Be my warriors!" All at once, the wind stops. The room is silent. The curtains still. The birds are gone, having flown out the window.   
I stand, slowly walking to the window, and there they are. Hundreds of Ravens, crows, Falcons, wolves.   
I watch as they howl, crow, and writhe, their forms shifting and changing before me. Soon I see an army of men, clothed in animal skins, ready for my command.  
My warriors. My army.  
"Fight for me. My berserkers."  
.  
.  
.  
"My Lord, we must act now. If we tarry too long she may relocate or worse, she may strike first."   
"Be calm, Lady Sif." Odin says, "You said yourself you believe she is not alone. We must find out who is with her before we make a rash decision. They may be an accomplice, or they may be a hostage."  
"It's a child," you pipe up, "she would bring him in to the store every week." Sif, Odin, Balder, and yourself had gathered in the room where Loki was being held. He sits, bound to a chair in the corner,  
"Hela has no children." Odin says,  
"Here she has a son... A young boy, about nine or ten. I would call him little Thor." You chuckle fondly.   
"Do you believe he could be a part of this?" Balder asks you, you always liked the little boy, you couldn't see someone so young, so sweet, being part of something like this. But he never seemed to be in distress, maybe he wasn't what he seemed.  
"I want to say no, he was always such a good kid... But honestly, I don't know anymore."   
"Do you hear that?" Loki says suddenly, you all pause and listen.  
"Howling? We're in the middle of the city. That doesn't make any sense." You say,  
"Oh no..." Odin whispers. You all turn to him, "She's called them. This is her declaration of war."  
"Who? Who has she called?" You ask, worried of what could possibly be coming next,  
"The berserkers." He replies, "She has her army."


	19. Chapter 18

The howling outside is distant, but it reminds you of something, some time you can’t quite put your finger on. Suddenly a white hot pain rips through you, a memory of torture, you double over with a shout, falling to your knees. The howling. You hear their voices screaming for help, bodies pressed together, tearing at each other in a frenzy, burning as they cry out but never feeling the relief of death. Someone wraps an arm around your shoulders and smoothes your hair back.   
You look into Balder’s face, creased with concern,   
"I remember." You say suddenly, the memory fading, the pain a dull echo of what was, "I remember how I got out."   
Now with their full attention, you slowly relive Hel.   
"I don't know how long I was there. It felt like a thousand lifetimes, I couldn't even remember our life before.” You nod at Loki, “The constant physical and emotional anguish, I kept hoping I would grow accustomed to it. I never did." The horror of that life gives you chills. You see Loki try to reach for you, jerking against his chains. "Hela came to me one day, as she had so many times before. Adding to my torture with my memories of my family." Your heart aches dully remembering that emptiness and your hand rests again on your stomach.   
You feel an arm wrap around your waist, and turn to see Loki pulling you to him. Balder stands behind him, holding his unlocked chains.   
You bury your face in his chest, holding fistfuls of his shirt as he wraps you in a tight hug.  
"She took him, Loki." You say brokenly, your head resting on his shoulder.   
"Who did she take?" He whispers,  
"I made a deal with her. She would take me and spare you... and our child. But when she came to me, she held an infant. It was him, I know it was!"   
Loki tenses, his anger beginning to boil but he still looks at you skeptically.   
"Are you certain he was ours?" He asks, needing to be sure.  
"I would know my own son, Loki." You try to convince him, of course you would know your own child. "She took him. Then she threatened to take you as well. I couldn't let that go unchallenged. I don't think she expected the revolt that followed. I got close enough I was able to steal her Nightsword, but I was too weak to kill her. Her wound was enough for us to escape, those who were wrongly taken during the Purging. Some made it home, but we were sent here, so until we could find a way home we hid."  
"But what of your memories?" Loki asks,  
"That was my doing." Balder says, "Or rather, I called in a favor of... Someone who was in my debt."   
"Who?" Loki presses,  
"He's talking about me." On hearing a smooth voice behind the group, you all turn toward the door, "Sorry I'm late, all."   
"Valkyrie..." Sif begins,  
"I prefer 'Enchantress'." She croons, and Loki's grip on you tightens, "Balder called on me to manipulate your memories and cast a charm to hide you from Hela, with the understanding that if you were ever to unlock the truth, the charm would be rendered useless and she would be able to find you. Obviously you remember, so I assume we are all in rather grave danger." She leans, nonchalantly, on the door frame, looking almost bored,  
"We must strike tonight." Odin says, "If she has called on her army, she must be ready for battle. Her attack is imminent."   
"And the child?" Sif asks,  
"We treat him as a hostage until such a time as he poses a threat."   
"Loki," he looks down at you, your eyes wide with worry, finally understanding, "tonight... This is it... Isn't it?" Everyone in the room pauses, feeling the weight of what is to come, even the Enchantress seems grave.  
"Yes, darling." He replies softly, "this is it."


	20. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my main aim in re reading/editing these chapters was to extend them to a more reasonable length, but I think my aim will now just be to get it posted. Should an idea come up, I'll add it, but trying to force an extension is what's taking me so long.
> 
> Therefore, I apologize for the shortness of this chapter, haha.

You see the blade protruding from his back, Hela smiles when she sees the look in your eyes. You feel the blood drain from your face, your head feeling light,  
“No!” You cry out, running to him, stumbling over the remnants of bodies strewn across the field. You make it to the top of the hill, brandishing your sword, prepared to fight when a blinding flash shines all round you, a bolt of lightning striking between you and Hela, throwing both of you back, rendering Hela unconscious. She is restrained by two of your fellow warriors before she is able to regain consciousness. You crawl to his side, still a little disoriented, and cradle his head. You try to staunch the flow of blood from the wound on his chest, but you can already see in his eyes that you’re too late.   
“Please… Please don’t leave me…” You cry. You feel a hand come up to your cheek and look down at him.  
“Don’t cry.” He whispers, “Let me die with honor.”  
“No,” you say stubbornly. “I will save you. Let me save you.” He takes your hand from his chest, both now coated in is blood,  
“It doesn’t even hurt anymore.” With that you see the life fade from his eyes and he breathes his last.  
You don’t know how long they let you sit; still cradling the limp body, crying freely, but someone shakes your shoulder and a distant voice calls your name. Your stomach lurches, you feel like you’re falling. The field falls away, giving way to darkness. Arms wrap around you, the voice still calls your name.  
“Sigyn! Wake up! Come back to me!” You’re being shaken, the shadows parting. You’re back in Boston, in the room with Sif, Balder, Odin, and Loki, and now the Enchantress. “What did you see?”   
“Loki?” He’s holding you up. You try to get your feet under you.  
“You cried out and then you began to weep.” Sif says,  
“You had another vision.” Loki says softly, carding his fingers through your hair, “What did you see?”   
A vision. That’s what those headaches have been? Does that mean you’ll lose… who was the man? You try to remember his face, but it is already hazy. You work to recall any details you can, but they are all escaping you.   
“I saw…” Breathe. You have to tell them. “I saw death.”  
“Hela’s?” Sif asks, you shake your head,  
“We catch her… She isn’t killed. But one of us… One of us…”   
‘You can find me…’ You hear a small voice, a quiet plea in the back of your mind. You take a breath and choke back your tears. Enough crying.   
“If I’ve seen it… I can stop it.”  
“Sigyn,” Loki touches your shoulder,  
“No. I will stop it. None of us die tonight… I have an idea.”  
The Enchantress tenses,  
“Make it quick.” She tilts her head, listening, “She’s moving. And she’s not alone.”


	21. Chapter 20

“Alright, do we have an understanding?” You ask. The plan was risky, but most good plans are, aren’t they? Besides, it’s the best that can be done in such a short time. Everyone nods, some more reluctantly than others, “Then let’s go pay my step-daughter a visit.”  
You have trouble focusing as your modest band of warriors march toward a battle against Hela and her army. Part of you knows that this is truth. Your history was in Asgard, a background of sword-training, court politics and propriety, horseback riding, and hand-to-hand combat. Your life here was a lie. Well, your childhood was. Your memories of abusive foster parents were only a bad dream. Your reality was that you had been murdered; you spent a generation in Hel, before managing to break free, however, discerning when your time on Midgard truly began was more than a little tricky.   
All of this runs through your mind while another part of you keeps saying that you are still Y/N. You own a comic book store that has nearly gone belly up several times. You can’t speak Spanish to save your life, you hate Thai food, and you’ve never been in a real relationship, though you don’t know why. Both true, both lies. How are Y/N and Lady Sigyn of Asgard supposed to coexist? Before your headaches started, the biggest decision you ever had to make was what nickname to give to your new customers. Now you’re in the middle of Boston Common at 2 AM with Loki, Odin, Balder, Sif, and the Enchantress.   
‘Just focus, you dim-wit; now is not the time for an existential crisis.’ You stand side-by-side to prevent Hela, literally the step-child from Hel, from causing another New York scale ‘incident’. The plan was set into motion, starting with Enchantress casting a spell of protection over the nearby apartments and businesses, though so long as she was maintaining this charm, she would not be able to fight. Being the middle of the week and the middle of the night, there was virtually no foot traffic. The whole city slept on, its residents pleasantly oblivious to the battle beginning right outside their windows.  
“And again.” Hela calls, her berserkers gathered behind her, one hundred strong, at least, and all rabid with bloodlust, “A new battlefield for the same war.”  
“Do you plan to talk and pose all night? Or did you come to fight?” Sif spits back. Hela smiles, her comely face twisting into a snarl.  
“Go.” she says, the berserkers charge without a second thought. They have already closed half of the distance between you when Balder sends forth a piercing light that knocks them all to the ground. They regain their footing quickly, flailing, punching, biting, swinging their swords in every direction, making contact only with their fellow fighters.  
They were blinded. And they were destroying each other.  
“Another flash like that and we may wake the whole city, Balder.” The Enchantress mutters with some difficulty.   
“Well, at least half gone, nearer seventy by my estimate. I’d say it was worth it.” He replies.  
“Regardless, Midgardians could pose an unforeseen problem should they stumble upon this battle. Let us be done quickly, and let us be gone.” The strain of her charm was beginning to wear her down. She held a spell of protection and concealment on the buildings surrounding the park, a superhuman feat, even for an Asgardian. The strain was evident in the sweat beading on her brow, her fists beginning to clench, but she held. She held as long as she could. You hear Hela chuckle,  
“Worry not, Enchantress, I assure you, this will not last long.” She sends her remaining fighters. Loki, Balder, Sif, and Odin brandish their swords, readying themselves for combat. You stand back; your part in the plan is coming, but not yet.   
One more thing.  
“Loki…” He glances at you momentarily, before he can turn back, you pull him down into a kiss. A kiss you fear may be goodbye, “Be careful, min kärlek.” He leans his forehead on yours, looking into your eyes.   
“And you, mitt hjärta.” He kisses your forehead as the remainder of Hela’s army meets your ranks.   
He pushes you back, trying to get you away from the fight, then turns, duel swords at ready, and joins the battle.


	22. Chapter 21

It could have worked. The plan could have been brilliant. Everything had set up perfectly, Enchantress was maintaining her protection charm, Odin, Balder, and Sif were fighting nobly, like the Asgardian warriors they were, Loki was showing exceptional swordsmanship, and even assisted his fellow soldiers as they cut down every last berserker.   
The clone snuck up on Hela, as planned. She was distracted, as planned. And you were about to greet Hela with your blade when you heard a voice. A familiar voice that shouldn’t be familiar.   
“Momma!” you and Hela both turn toward the little boy as he runs through the battlefield, toward you. No, he isn’t running to you. He runs to Hela.  
You look closer. Little Thor. But not little Thor.  
Who is he?   
He tramples through clumps of bloodied fur and piles of feathers strewn across the grass, the aftermath of a Berserker’s death, but he trips, falling at your feet. You reach to pull him up, but he levitates, above your head, just out of your reach.  
“Momma! What’s happening?” You look at Hela, her arm outstretched. Not reaching, but restraining.   
“You silly boy, I told you to stay put, didn’t I?”  
You look back at the boy, catching his eye. Your heart stutters, you gasp.  
“Váli?” He looks at you, stunned, “Váli!” you reach for him, but a shock of energy surges through your arm and you cry out as you’re thrown backwards. Hela flings the boy over her head, away from you, and he lands with a loud grunt.  
“Well, that was a bit premature.” She sighs, never relinquishing her hold on the child.  
“You weren’t meant to see him yet. I had planned for that to be the twist of the knife.”  
You hear him groan from the impact, unable to escape her hold. Something in you snaps, your blood boils; before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re rushing at Hela, drawing your sword. She blocks your first blow easily, spinning you slightly and knocking you to your knees. You twist quickly, narrowly avoiding a blow from her Nightsword. She sends a flurry of energy bolts toward you, too many to dodge; out of reflex, you curl into yourself, arms braced around your head, waiting for the impact. It never comes. Slowly lowering your arms, you see the cloud of energy hovering before you,  
“No.” Hela breathes in disbelief. You push at the ball of energy, sending it darting back to her, catching her off guard and knocking her off her feet. She drops her sword, sending it skittering to the side.  
Sif, having dispatched her fair share of berserkers, ran to your aid. Diving for the sword, she reaches it at the same time as Hela,   
“See to the child!” she yells, grappling with her, so you run to him and even in the adrenaline of battle you feel nervous. Finally free of Hela’s grasp, the boy sits up, rubbing his arm, and looks at you. Those are Loki’s eyes.  
“Váli,” you almost whimper, “I didn’t know. I don’t know how I didn’t see you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Setting your sword down, you kneel and pull him to you, trying to wrap him in a hug, but he wrenches out of your grasp,  
“What are you talking about? I’m Aren. Who’s Váli? What’s happening?” you see his fear, the indifference toward you, and you don’t know what to say. He doesn’t know you; he doesn’t recognize you beyond the comic book store. He doesn’t know who he is.  
You feel a prickle at the back of your neck.   
“Momma, no!”


	23. Chapter 22 - Aren POV

Sometimes I have dreams. Weird ones. Scary ones where I’m in a dark place, with people all around me screaming and crying, and it always hurts. Everything burns, and everything freezes, I feel like I’m curled up in the fireplace, but I can’t stop shivering. I never understand why I’m so cold when I can smell burning meat. Sometimes I see my mom there, too; she holds me, talks softly, rocks me, but she never really feels likes my mom, and she never seems to be hurting like the rest of us. I don’t know why but it always feels like a lie. I also hear another woman calling to me, she doesn’t call me by my name, but I know she talks to me and for some reason, I know her. I’ve tried telling mama about these dreams but she never really listened, so I stopped trying.  
I used to ask her about my dad, too. She never tells me much, just that she hasn’t seen him in a long time, and that just before I was born he tried to hurt her. She always tells me she brought me here to protect me and save me from him, but she will never tell me where we came from before. Whenever I mention him she looks so mad, so I stopped talking about him. Sometimes my school friends ask me about him, why I don’t have a daddy to bring to school on show-and-tell days, why my mom barely even makes it to the parent-teacher meetings, sometimes I make something up. I had Johnny Carroll convinced that Captain America was my father, he believed it for a whole semester. I got in a lot of trouble for that when my mom found out. Sometimes, though, I tell them about a guy that I’ve had a few dreams about. If I could pick my own father, I would choose him. He jokes with me, gives me piggy-back rides, walks me to school, helps me with homework. I miss him, even though he isn’t real.  
Tonight I had a really scary dream. I was down the street, at Boston Common with my mom, but in the middle of the night, and she looked so scary, like she wanted to hurt me. She was dressed funny, too. She was wearing black armor and a green cape, and she had a huge, black sword. I’ve never seen my mom look at me like she did then, and when I woke up, I tried to tell her about it. She tried to make me feel better, telling me she would protect me; it all made my stomach hurt. I knew she was lying.  
I went back to bed, telling myself that she was working too hard, that I hadn’t done anything wrong, so there was no reason for her to be mad at me. I looked through my comics for a little while, trying to find something I could read that would help me sleep, and found a picture on one of my Thor comics that looked exactly like how I saw my mom in my dream. I decided I must have been dreaming about that, ignoring the fact that I haven’t read that book in a long time. Now I am waking up to yelling, like a big football game. I thought I was still dreaming for a second, when I realized I am sleeping next to a tree in the park. I look around, trying to figure out how I got here, and I see my mom, wearing the same thing as in my dream… the same thing that Hela wears in that comic book. I saw a big group of people fighting, punching and kicking each other, sometimes getting stabbed. I got too scared to stay there, so I ran to my mom,  
“Momma! What’s happening?” I was off to her side, running straight toward her, but on her other side I saw the woman from the comic book store. She had a sword too, and she didn’t look like she was going to help my mom. Miss Y/L/N turned, looking really surprised when she heard my voice.  
My mom reached toward me, I thought she was actually reaching for me until I realized I couldn’t move.  
“You silly boy, I told you to stay put, didn’t I?”  
“Váli?” The name makes me stop struggling, but I don’t know why. I’m Aren, not Váli. She reaches for me, calling the wrong name, but something makes her fly back, away from me; my mom throws me to the ground behind her, and as much as I try, I can’t sit up. It feels like that bully from school, holding me down again.  
I can’t see anything from where I am, but I can still hear fighting, I feel like any second someone will come find me and kill me. It may even be my mom. All of a sudden I feel like the heaviness goes away and I can sit up. My arm hurts to much I can’t stop crying. Miss Y/L/N comes to me, kneeling next to me.  
“Váli, I didn’t know. I don’t know how I didn’t see you. I’m so sorry.” I jump back when she tries to give me a hug,  
“What are you talking about? I’m Aren, Who’s Váli? What’s happening?” that name sounds so familiar to me, but I can’t remember why. I don’t have time to figure it out, because I see my mom, she kicked another fighter away and took back her sword, coming up behind Miss Y/L/N, lifting her sword, I knew she was getting ready to kill her.  
“Momma, no!” The lady pulls me down as she dives past me, out of the way of the sword; it gets stuck in the ground right where she was kneeling. “Momma, what are you doing?” I yell to my mom as I hang on to this lady who thinks I’m not me, “You said you would protect me! Why are you doing this?” Mom yanks until she finally gets her sword out of the ground.  
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She sighs, standing. That look, the same look from my dream. “I’m not your mother.”


	24. Chapter 23

Loki slashes and hacks his way through the army, fighting as he never thought he would alongside the very Asgardians he was here to destroy. Sigyn’s unexpected arrival had only temporarily distracted him from his ultimate goal. Though, first, his dear daughter must be dealt with.   
“Váli!” He hears you yell. With that name, Loki is blindsided by the memory of being told he had fathered a child. Sigyn was so excited, assuring him it must be a boy. They had debated over names for a few days, but she finally won him over with Váli. ‘It’s kingly,’ she said, ‘but gentle and good.’ Her eagerness was too much to refuse. Váli it was. But Váli was gone, murdered, laying dead inside Sigyn before he was even born.   
The realization hits Loki at the same time as a Berserker’s club. His last thought before everything went dark: Hela had kidnapped his son.  
“Could we perhaps… hurry this along?” Enchantress calls from the edge of the common, blood dripping from her nose with her efforts. She knows she won’t last much longer; they need more help. She kneels down and steels herself, bowing her head and whispering a prayer.   
Odin cuts down the last Berserker, effectively saving Loki’s life again. He crouches beside him, checking his head wound.   
“Loki, wake up. Wake up, son, we need you. We need your help.” He comes to with a start, relaxing only slightly when he sees Odin standing over him. He recovers himself quickly.  
“She took him.” Loki mutters. “She stole him. Hela took my son from Valhalla and kept him in Hel.” His rage boils over and he jumps to his feet.  
.  
.  
.  
“Váli—Aren, stay behind me.” You say, pulling him to you. The poor boy is still in a daze.  
“You lied.” He whispers as you pull him away from Hela, “You’re a liar. I knew you didn’t want me!” he yells, starting to cry again. Hela raises her hand to grab hold of him again, but you knock it away with the broadside of your sword.   
“Leave him, Hela.”  
She glares at you, holding her arm. She looks almost indignant when she sees ‘Aren’ clinging to the back of your shirt.  
“Always so self-sacrificing, except in Hel. Would you be so kind as to tell me how Váli was left behind when you escaped?” she snarls,   
“What?” ‘Aren’ asks, getting confused. Hela turns her attention to the boy,   
“She knew you were there. Surely you heard her calling your name.” He had never told her about that particular dream, it scared him too much to talk about.  
“Stop it.” You snap, “Don’t listen to her, Váli.”  
“I’m Aren!” he screeches at you, though he never lets go of your shirt.   
“She escaped and left you there. I was the one who cared for you.”  
“You kidnapped him!” You yell, slashing at her.  
“You could have pulled him out with you.” She advances,  
“No.” You step back,  
“You got yourself out. Balder, Enchantress, you could have…”  
“No…”  
“If you actually wanted him.”  
“Stop it!” You lunge once more, slash, slice, but you hit nothing but air.  
“You left me?” Váli’s small voice cuts right to your heart. “It was you?”  
“I didn’t know. I would have brought you out if I knew I could.” You’re crying. “I’m sorry, V—Aren. I’m sorry you were left. I’m sorry I forgot about you. I’m sorry!”   
“Look out!” He yells seeing Hela thrust her Nightsword.


	25. Chapter 24

Loki jumps between you and Hela, the two lock in a clash of steel; neither planning on taking prisoners. You take a moment, kneeling in front of the boy. “Aren… my son,” You smooth back his hair, but he almost flinches away, “I need you to hide. Run back to the trees and stay out of sight. I will come back for you.” He looks unsure, glancing at the tree line, back at you, he still doesn’t know you. Why would he? You hadn’t sung him to sleep as a baby; you didn’t teach him to walk or talk; he had to be at least 10 years old by now, all that time thinking Hela was his mother. He looks like he’s about to refuse, but then he catches a glimpse of Loki. He looks familiar, ‘Aren’ knows he’s seen that man somewhere before, then he remembers: it’s the father from his dreams. He’s real, and he’s here, fighting. If those dreams were real, then the ones about the woman calling for him… calling the wrong name…  
“Váli.” The boy says quietly, more out of wanting to it to be true than anything else. “I’m Váli.” You blink, almost not wanting to let yourself believe it. He takes a hesitant step forward before diving into your arms.   
It takes a few seconds to register what’s happening, but then you cry as you hold your son for the first time. You had been deprived of the last phase of your pregnancy. You had not been able to give birth. You had never seen his infant face. But now he was here, in your arms, trying to believe.  
“I promise I will come for you.” You whisper in his ear, “Now go!” He nods, running to the trees, and you turn around, joining your husband. You’re fighting not just for your lives or for the safety of the city; you’re not trying to save the world. You fight side-by-side for your son.  
.  
.  
.  
Hela POV

I can’t be losing. I will not lose this fight, even though I can feel this cursed body getting fatigued, slowing, becoming exhausted. Every slash, parry, lunge, and thrust, I spend more strength than I can spare. Against them both, even my rage is running out. Who can withstand against both undying Fidelity and utter Chaos?  
A jab pierces my shoulder, a slash tears through my upper leg, and I fall to one knee. But there is one last thing. Even with the boy gone, there is still one weapon left.   
They pause.   
I give them one chance for a killing blow and they don’t take it. The fools. I laugh, I just can’t help it any more, and, whispering the words I’ve been holding back, I feel the change begin.  
My backbone cracks and stretches, my knees rearticulate, my arms crackle and grow longer. My eyes cloud over and roll back; my teeth stretch and re-form to razor-points. I can’t hear my own screams over the sickening popping and groaning of my own joints.  
Finally, I straighten up, towering over them both, my black robes torn and hanging ragged around me. Yes, Lady Sigyn, you’ve seen me before. The wraith in the garden. The start of your nightmare journey, it was me.  
Pain demands to be felt, misery loves company, and all of those quaint Midgardian sentiments. Despite your illusion of control, I brought you here. Every step of the way, I lead you, showing you what you needed to see to make the moves I needed you to make.   
I feel their swords on my back, hacking at my legs, but even the All-Father cannot rend this new skin.   
“Well, father? What do you think of me now?” Is that regret I see in his eyes?  
I fling Sif back into the trees, she really is beginning to annoy. I turn my sights to The Enchantress, being guarded by Odin himself. I do enjoy a good challenge. Time to end this spell and bring the neighbors out to play.   
I feel the power crackle beneath my skin, ready to burst, but I’m tackled from behind, skidding forward slightly. I jump back up with a roar, spinning on my attacker. I spar with Balder yet again. He has yet to learn any new techniques, and I parry his jabs with ease.   
He lands a blow, a slice across my stomach, and he looks triumphant for a moment, but realizes all too late that his blade cannot kill me. He looks at my blood-less wound, then back up to my eyes. With a smile, I grasp his shoulder, pulling him forward onto my blade.


	26. Chapter 25

“Don’t cry.” He whispered, his breathing already labored, “Let me die with honor.”  
“No,” you argued stubbornly. “I will save you. Let me save you.” He took your hand from his chest, already coated in deep red, letting his blood run freely.  
“It doesn’t even hurt anymore.” He assured you softly and you watched the life fade from his eyes and he breathed his last.   
Now you kneel in the common, Balder’s still form across your lap; no matter how close you held him, how tightly you hugged him, you couldn’t make him stay. You can’t bring yourself to move, numbness paralyzing you, you tried to stop it; you wanted so badly to stop it, but every vision so far has been unchangeable. You were foolish to think you could do anything. You watch the slashing swords biting flesh, swinging hilts chipping bone, you hear Loki cry out as Hela’s sword connects with his shoulder. Maybe you can do something after all.  
“Rest well in Valhalla, dear Warrior.” You whisper over him, kissing his forehead. Regardless of being above you in court and rank, he had always seen himself as your protector. You let a few tears fall for him before shifting him to the ground, folding his arms across his chest.  
You stand slowly, turning toward Sif and Loki as they battle Hela’s hulking form, and you charge forward.  
You feel the rumble begin in your bones; a deafening thunder cracks through the sky, roaring through the air around you. Your step falters from the vibration and you see splinters of light crawl across the gathering clouds. You watch the sky.   
A blinding flash disorients you when a bolt of lightning strikes the common between you and Hela. You’re knocked to your back, vision clearing just in time to see Hela stumbling, temporarily blinded. In her confusion, Sif skewers her shoulder, followed by Loki piercing her back, running her through with his twin blades, and pushing her to her knees, they stake her to the ground, holding her firm as she writhes and bellows, her appearance slowly rearticulating, transforming back into the half-corpse form you saw in your dream.  
As you start to pull yourself to your feet, a hand is offered to you. You accept, and are tugged to your feet, coming face-to-face with Thor. He looks at you in momentary confusion, but then you see a flicker of recognition.   
“Sigyn.” He breathes, “Lady Sigyn, my sister! You’re alive!” he gathers you up into a crushing hug, lifting you off the ground, “I saw you fall, how can this be?”   
“It’s a long story that we don’t have time for now.”  
“What a lovely reunion.” Hela snarls,  
“You will take care what you say, devil.” Thor commands her, “I am inclined to condemn you without allowing you a defense, and every poisonous word you hiss chips away at my generosity.”  
“Do not bother trying to negotiate, Thor. She is beyond reason.” The Enchantress speaks, groaning and leaning heavily on Odin as they join you. Her eyes have lost much of their fire, now sunken and ringed with dark circles; blood is smudged from her nose across her cheek. Her protection of the vicinity from the skirmish had left her drained and powerless, though at the rate she is regaining her breath she seems to be recovering quickly.  
Hela, still staked to the ground, continues to writhe.   
“You have deprived me of my standing,” She barks at Thor and Odin, “stolen my rights and my honor. You wrenched it from me, for what? You don’t even want it. You left me with less than scraps; while the righteous enter Valhalla, out of my reach, I get the cowards and devils, the dishonorable dead. Have you no respect for the daughter of a prince?” Loki, standing nearby, hangs his head. “The daughter of a would-be King?” She bucks against the swords, feeling one of them shift.  
“Hela,” Loki says quietly, “my daughter, this is wrong. I was wrong. I was never intended for Asgard’s throne… and you were never going to get anywhere near it.” She looks him in the eye,  
“Wasn’t I?” she bucks one more time, the smooth blades jerking out of the loosened soil. She rears back, onto her knees, pounding her fists into the grass, causing a ripple-effect to radiate through the park; it knocks you all off of your feet, jars the trees, and splits through the park fountain.   
Thor is the first to his feet, reaching Hela as she pulls the last sword from her back. With a powerful swing, he knocks her back, Sif trips her and she falls to the ground. Thor stands over her, pinning her down with Mjolnir.  
“Even your mighty hammer cannot kill me.”  
“Yes, darling, we know.” Loki says, wielding the Nightsword. He raises it over his head, ready to end the battle.


	27. Chapter 26

“Loki, no!” you scream. He hesitates.  
“No? How can you say that? Loki, do it; finish this!” Enchantress yells.  
“No! We can’t. Look around.” The sky was beginning to lighten, a few cabs had already passed by, “Before long, this scene will be discovered if we don’t move quickly.”  
“Then we must dispatch her.” Sif offers, equally confused,  
“Loki, if we kill her, what will that accomplish?”  
“It will end her reign.” He says simply,  
“No. She will reincarnate. If we kill her now, we face her again later. We need to detain her, and judge her accordingly.”  
You see he still wants to finish this ordeal quickly, and you think he may ignore you and carry out Hela’s execution, but then his shoulders drop.  
“She’s right.” Thor agrees, reluctantly, “Heimdall!”  
“Here? In the middle of the city?” Enchantress asks quickly.  
“There is no time to find a more secluded location, and risking moving her is risking her getting away. Heimdall--”  
“Wait!” you call again, seeing Váli running out from the tree line. He runs as fast as he can, straight toward you, pausing only when he sees Thor.  
“Whoa.” He breathes, enthralled with Thor’s presence. You crouch next to him and pull him toward you, trying to get his attention.  
“Listen… Váli… we’re about to go on a little trip. As much as I want to tell you to run home—“  
“I belong with you guys.” He finishes for you, looking you in the eye. You nod,  
"I think you would be safer with us."  
“Sigyn…” Loki speaks up, “Who is this?” you stand up, the boy hiding shyly behind you,  
“Loki, meet Váli.” He peeks around your side,  
“Váli… meaning…”  
“Your son.” You’re not sure what you had expected him to do, whether you thought he would deny it saying your son was never born, or if he would even be happy. One thing was for sure, you weren’t ready for him to pass Thor the Nightsword, kneel in front of Váli, look him in the eyes, and pull him into a hug. Váli hugs him tight, his eyes squeezed shut. Loki straightens, lifting his son with him.  
“Heimdall, when you’re ready.” Loki says, softly. You never mention to him that you saw his eyes tear.  
The sun just breaches the horizon, the first rays of the sunrise competing with the bright lights of the bifrost as it envelopes them all, transporting them to Asgard.


	28. Chapter 27

The Bifrost whisks you through the stars, past other realms you forgot existed, and you step onto a platform of shining gold, in a room with no furnishings, no decoration, no windows, and only a door in and out, but the walls; the walls were so ornately and elaborately carved that you couldn’t stop following the designs, the lines curling and curving around each other, each leading into the next design. “Welcome to Asgard,” says a tall, dark man; his voice booming in the metallic chamber, “it’s good to see you again, Lady Sigyn.” His golden eyes misty as he smiles at you.   
“Thank you… Heimdall.” You remember, somehow. Stepping out of the chamber onto the shimmering bridge, your breath catches. Following the vaguely familiar pathways to the city gates and beyond, your gaze finding its way to the Citadel, the palace of Asgard, its towers and turrets stretching skyward.   
You were home.  
.  
.  
.  
Odin’s voice carries so easily in the throne room. Hela is held by Thor and Sif, facing the verdict from their All-Father,  
“Hela Lokidottir, you have been found guilty of crimes against Asgard, and shall be punished accordingly.”  
“What a surprise.” She mutters, seemingly bored. “You know your dungeons will not hold me. Your executions, however inventive or elaborate, will not keep. Even your almighty power cannot destroy me.”  
“Even as we sentence you, you feel a right to speak.” Odin sighs,   
“Even as we speak, you feel a right to sentence me.” Sif kicks the backs of her legs, making her fall to her knees, “You have deeply insulted me, honestly believing I could be captured without allowing it.”  
“So you have an escape plan, what a surprise.” Enchantress mumbles,  
“Escape?” Hela says, “Why would I escape? When will you see that I am right where I am supposed to be?” From somewhere within the walls of the city, you hear a long howl, answered by another much closer. Soon the snarling and barking of a pack of wolves was mingled with the surprised and pained cries of Asgardians as the hounds make their way through the city to the palace.  
“Loki, get Váli out of here.” You hear a snarl somewhere in the room, the echo disguising its location. You see him whisper something to Váli, still in his arms, who nods before he is set down and Loki draws his sword. “What are you doing? Get out of here!”   
“We are not leaving you, love.” You hear the snarl behind you, or was it behind the throne? You all keep turning, spinning in circles, on high alert.   
“Where is it? I can’t see it!” you hiss to Loki, you drift closer to each other, keeping Váli close by, ready to scoop him up or push him out of harm’s way.   
“I say we dispatch their leader and be done with it.” Sif says, stepping toward Hela. She brandishes her sword overhead, ready to strike.  
“Sif, No! We cannot risk having to recapture her!” Thor yells,  
“But the dogs—“  
“May not stop with her death. Now, leave her.”   
“Look out!” Váli yells, but you turn too late, and are tackled to the ground, pushing Váli into Loki, nearly making him lose his balance as they both stumble away from you. You hear your sword skitter away from you.  
“Lady Sigyn—“  
“Get Váli out—“ your words dissolve into a scream as you feel claws bore into your back. You can’t breath, can’t speak, can’t move. You hear crunching and crackling as the weight on your back shifts, splintering your ribs like dried twigs, sending shards through your lungs and stomach. There is a low growl by your ear, you turn as far as your screaming neck allows and see a monstrous wolf, its eyes a deep, shining red, teeth as long as your fingers, dripping with drool; flesh peeks out where chunks of fur are missing, bones exposed in places, oozing wounds that never healed. A Hel-Hound.   
His rancid breath skates across your face, ruffling your hair, making you gag and burning your eyes. Somewhere in the distance you can hear someone calling you, screaming your name. The pain and pressure are too much, so you have no choice but to let go and give in as your vision goes dark.


	29. Chapter 28

Váli runs to the Enchantress, whispering something to her as the doors to the throne room burst open, and a dozen more Hel-Hounds flood in. Loki charges the hound that is on your back, running it through with one of his blades. He pins it to the ground, and brings his other sword down on its neck once, twice, finally beheading the beast.  
“Sigyn? Sigyn, mitt hjärta, wake up.” He inspects your back momentarily, hardly touching you, not wanting to hurt you more. “Sigyn, please…”   
“My Friend!” Fandral bursts into the room, running straight to Thor’s side, dodging and cutting down wolves in his path “These hounds have been wreaking havoc all through the city, but they seem intent on coming here.”   
“It is good to see you, Fandral.” Thor says, stealing a short moment to greet his old friend. They fight beside each other, brothers-in-arms once more.  
“Save some battle for us!” comes another voice from the hall  
“The warriors three together with the Mighty Thor once again.” Volstagg and Hogan try bottle-necking the dogs as they try to enter the throne room,   
“It is good to see you, my friends.”   
The Warriors, Sif, and Thor fight valiantly, the only way the knew how, crying out when they are bitten or tackled, and running to each others aid. But Loki sits be your side, unable to move, unwilling to leave you, when he sees Hela, standing near the steps to the throne, seemingly enjoying the carnage taking place around her and gets an idea.  
“You will not walk away from this, Hela.” Enchantress says, she stands beside Odin by the throne, both of them looking down over her.  
“Oh, I don’t plan to go anywhere. You, however, will be leaving my Palace, now.” She reaches toward Odin, having broken free of her bonds. Loki jumps forward, swinging Hela’s Nightsword, reclaimed from Thor, severing her right arm at the elbow.  
“No!” she screams, surprise and pain distracting her. She stumbles back a step, holding her bloodied limb, “What have you done?” Loki lets the blade rest against her neck,  
“That is enough, Hela. On your knees.” Behind her, there is a yelp and crash as Thor bludgeons the last Hel-Hound.  
“What will you do?” She asks, her defiance melting away into fear, “Will you kill me? You know that will only help me. Imprison me? I will not be held captive.”  
“For the mass homicide of citizens of Asgard, Vanaheim, Alfheim, and Nidavellir;” Odin begins,  
“im Namen von Bor , Vater der Götter , und durch die Kraft des Odin…” Enchantress speaks softly,  
“…for the attempt of usurping the throne of Asgard;”  
“What are you doing?” Hela asks shakily,   
“…Ich binde Sie hiermit in das Reich der Hel…” _  
“No! You can’t do this!” She yells, falling to her knees,  
“…and for the theft of righteous souls from their place in Valhalla…”  
“…Nie wieder , um den Platz des entehrt verlassen…”   
“I Odin All-Father, take from you your title, your rights…”  
“…Im namen Odin…”   
“…and your gifts.”  
“…Sie verurteilt warden.”   
“No.” She screams once more, reaching with her left arm, but nothing happens. “You can’t…”  
“You no longer possess any power in any realm. No authority, no rights, no name.” Odin almost sounds regretful as he finishes her sentencing.   
“Momma?” Váli says, peeking out from behind the throne, “Momma!” he runs down the steps, Hela holds out her good hand, ready for him, but he runs right past her, toward Sigyn.  
“Aren…”  
“Momma, wake up!” he kneels beside you, jostling your shoulder, his hands coming away bloody,  
“Váli, no. Do not shake her.” Loki runs to his side and tries to hold him back from you,  
“Fix her!” her screams at Hela, trying to wriggle away from Loki, “You did this, now fix her!”  
“She cannot. We have taken her abilities, she is nothing now.”   
“Then you fix her.” He says to Enchantress,  
“I’m sorry, my boy, there is nothing I can do.”  
“No!” He finally breaks free of Loki, diving forward, slipping on your blood. “I dreamed this, you can’t leave me. You don’t leave me.” He lays his hands on your back again, his eyes sliding closed, “You stay with me.”   
Loki reaches for Váli, but stops short; a light begins to build on your back, growing brighter until Loki has to shield his eyes, “Come back.” Váli whispers, the light flashes suddenly, lighting the whole of the room. For a moment everything is silent, no one speaks, they hardly breathe until you heave a labored breath.   
“Sigyn!” Loki gasps in surprise and dives forward, he and Váli help you to sit up,   
“What happened?” you ask, your voice gravelly; throat raw from screaming. Loki looks between you and Váli, trying to answer, but he doesn’t know how to explain it.  
“Your boy has his own gifts.” Enchantress says, more than a little wonder present in her voice, “Congratulations.”  
You look around the room, still dazed, seeing the bodies of dozens of Hel-Hounds, and Hela on her knees, clutching what is left of her right arm, looking defeated.  
“The hounds… Are you alright?” you ask Váli. He nods, throwing his arms around your neck, you look over him, at Hela,   
“She has been taken care of,” Loki says, “she cannot hurt us anymore.” You look at her warily, but she shrinks back, staring at Váli brokenly; Loki fills you in, that she is without her power, condemned to Hel, now having lost her son, you almost pity her.  
After a moment, she stands slowly, then, in a flash, disarms Fandral of his dagger and runs to the window.   
“Stop her!” Thor yells. She turns back at the window’s ledge, her back to the waning daylight. She holds the knife to her own neck, stopping everyone in their tracks in their surprise. Váli watches from your arms, a tear rolling down his cheek.  
“Do not look, child.” She says to the boy she raised, then slides the blade firmly along her own throat._


	30. Chapter 29

Váli buries his face in your neck, his tears dampening the front of your tattered and blood-stained shirt as his shoulders tremble, but you can’t look away from Hela. The blade does it’s job well, slicing cleanly through her skin, letting her blood spray uninhibited, painting the pillar next to her and spilling down her front. She makes no move to staunch the flow, no one moves to help her, and she struggles against the instinct to gasp for air. She sinks to her knees, falls forward, her blood still flowing, now pooling around her. The last look in her eyes almost broke your heart, the hopeless brokenness with nothing left to lose. She just gave up. You see her eyes go dull and her breathing stills, and you know it’s finally over.  
“It’s gonna be okay, honey.” You say to Váli as he sniffles, wiping his nose on his sleeve. He nods and leans into you, quieting down. Loki kisses your temple, his arms wrap around you both,  
“It’s finished, darling.” He whispers,  
“Not quite.” Odin says. “Fandral, Hogan, seize him.”  
“What? What are you doing?” You ask holding Váli tight as Loki is pulled away from you; you reach for him but Thor holds you back.  
“Leave him, Sigyn.” He says quietly, regret evident in his voice.  
“Your crimes have not been overlooked, Loki.” Continues Odin,  
“You can’t really mean to punish him now.” You fight against Thor, trying to reason with Odin,  
“He is no more excusable than Hela. He has proven himself as an enemy of Asgard, and will be held accountable for his actions.” Loki says nothing, hardly resists as his hands are bound, only looking at Odin with a hatred that makes you shudder.   
“No, leave him alone!” Váli breaks free from you, kicking Hogan in the shin and pulling at Fandral, trying to free Loki’s hands,  
“Come away, boy—“ Volstagg steps forward, but Váli jumps out of his reach,  
"No! You can't take my dad!"  
"Váli, quiet down, now. I need you to do something for me," Loki kneels beside his son, his wrists already shackled, "I need you to promise you will look after your mother."  
"No.” He whines, “I just found you, why can't you stay now?"  
"Son, he did some very bad things. He is in a lot of trouble here. " Fandral tries to explain gently,  
"But I need him..." Váli’s voice is so small, so quiet as it trembles, that even Odin's heart seems to cave a little bit. "I've never had a dad before." He clings to Loki, crying, "I need him."   
.  
.  
.  
Never have I known pain this profound. The aching and burning, joints protesting against stiff and cracking tendons, blood running cold; I could swear I smell charred flesh, and by the intensity of this constant burn I assume it must be mine. I hear the roar of the flames, feel it’s bite, but there is nothing around me but darkness. I have screamed my throat raw, blood always spilling from my self-inflicted wound, always flowing, but never weakening me enough to let this world melt away. I have no measure of time here, I could have been here for a matter of hours, or I may have already endured centuries of this agony. I keep expecting to go numb, for the nerves to char with my muscles, blacken with my bones, but the pain is the one things that never lessens, never leaves. Regret, guilt, and heartbreak constantly intensify. I’m too exhausted to cry, too hopeless to fight. Why bother? I’m home. My tattered, burning, blackened, home. Though my halls are no longer mine, and I have no authority in my own realm, I have been sent where those dogs think I belong. Now the souls I governed take joy in torturing me, beating me, humiliating me. I’ve been made just like them. Just like the scum I lead here, just like those too inadequate, vain, too cowardly, too violent to be admitted to Valhalla. The daughter of a prince, thrown out in the rubbish. No power to change the cruel fate they have forced on me, no will left to try. Through all this pain, there is always that one face, one thing that hurts more than anything, the sight of Aren, the boy I raised, the child that I mindlessly let myself get attached to, running past me, giving my name to that whore; looking at me like I’m a monster. In that moment I saw all of the times I nursed him through a sickness, taught him to read, helped him with the work he brought home from his classes, all of it burns along with me, now. Every day, I want to find a way out, take over my kingdom, get Aren back, but I’m so tired. I’m just too tired.  
.  
.  
.  
"All-father, what will his sentence be?" you ask after a moment,  
“I swore to Frigga that I would not put him to death, so imprisonment for life in solitary confinement is the only option for him.” You see Loki gulp, defeat in his eyes, but his look of hatred has not lessened.  
“My lord Odin, have I served you loyally?” He looks confused at the sudden change in subject,   
“Yes, you have always proven yourself Faithful.”  
“Have I, then, earned your favor?”   
“Yes, Lady Sigyn, you will always have my good favor.” His responses grow increasingly wary,  
“Then, my king, may I make a suggestion? Offer an alternative punishment?” Loki looks incredulously at you for a moment, unable to believe his ears,  
“Momma, what are you doing?”  
“Trust me, Váli…” you pause, turning back to him, “Did you just call me Momma?” the title sounds so foreign to you, but you that it is one of the sweetest things you’ve ever heard.  
“Of course I did, you’re my mother. And you’re my father,” he says turning back to Loki, “right?”  
“That’s right.” Loki whispers. His heart cracking at the thought of never seeing his family again.   
Odin’s voice barely shakes you from your daze. You had no idea before how much you missed your unborn son, you had never met him, never held him. It all came back to you now, how you were looking forward to meeting him for the first time, teach him to walk and talk, to read, how much that anticipation hurt the longer your pregnancy drew on, how much it hurt even when you didn’t know it was your son that you missed.  
“You have given much, my child. I will hear you.”   
“May I suggest exile?”  
“Sigyn—“ you shush Loki,  
“Specifically exile to Midgard.” Odin looks to be contemplating the suggestion,  
“What would keep him from returning to Asgard? Or leaving Midgard for another realm?”   
“Bind his gifts. Have him live in Midgard, under my supervision, as any other mortal. To work, build a different life, socialize, assimilate into the human lifestyle.”  
“It does not strike me as much of a punishment.” Odin says, looking at you knowingly,  
“My lord, I know what Loki has done—“  
“And yet you want to stand beside him.” He interrupts,  
“Yes. Because he his my husband. I have lost my family and my life once already, I ask that you give me the chance at the life I should have lead, had the Purging never happened. I beg you, All-Father, to let me take my family home. Let me live with my son and my husband quietly, safely, harmlessly.   
Odin sits on his throne, deep in thought. You steel yourself, sure he will refuse, Loki has killed so many, attacking Jotunheim, and the war in New York; so you stand quietly, preparing for a goodbye, for your family to be broken up again. Right as you want to speak, scream just for the sake of breaking the silence, Odin sighs heavily, his hard gaze falling on you.  
“Go.” You blink, not daring to hope,  
“Go?”  
“Take your family, return to Midgard, build your life. Go, my child.”


	31. Chapter 30 - Finale

“Hey! You’re back! Where have you been?” Flash asks, his arm flung around his girlfriend's shoulders. They are your first customers since you’ve reopened your shop after making the necessary repairs. Apparently things have been going well with him and the all mother, since they seem closer than ever here six months down the road.  
It's been four months since Hela burst through the front windows of the store. When you first brought Loki and Váli back to Earth, you were wondering how you would explain the fact that you suddenly had a family, especially taking over care of a child, you weren't sure how to legally fix that. Enchantress and Odin assured you they would take care of it, and a week after Loki and Váli moved in, you found an envelope in your entryway, slid under the front door, containing birth certificates for Váli and Loki, now known as Váli and Luke Sorenson - you had insisted on keeping Váli's name, but Loki, after the battle of New York needed something a bit less conspicuous - there was also a marriage license, passports, and enrollment information for Váli for a local private school. There were also forms included for you to change your own last name, should you so choose.  
"I'm sorry, but I've been busy dealing with this mess."   
"It's good to see you again, we were getting really worried," she said.   
"Thanks, Elizabeth, it's great to be back." The head to a rack on the wall, browsing through the new inventory,  
"Momma, where's my backpack?" Váli calls, running to you from the back room. Elizabeth whips her head around, looking at you wide-eyed,  
"'Momma'?" She asks, you chuckle a little nervously,   
"Yeah, uh...” What was your cover story again? “My husband and son... have been living in England... Váli's father and I were, uh, separated for a while."   
"You were married?" Flash asks, his mouth hanging wide open,  
"I still am, actually. Lo--Luke and I are back together now. He's unloading a shipment in the back room right now."  
“Momma, I’m gonna be late!” he tugs your shirt hem to get your attention,  
“Did you check in the bathroom?” He pauses for a second and bolts to the bathroom without another word. “You’re welcome!”  
"Wow... You think you know some people.” Flash jokes, with a wink.  
“What about you two? How have you been? Didn’t you both graduate last month?” They share a look, and just before Elizabeth answers, a glint of silver on her left hand catches your eye. You gasp. “No… really?” She nods, both of them beaming, “Oh! Congratulations!” You run around the counter to hug them each, getting a little bit misty eyed.  
“Who are we congratulating?” Loki says, bringing a box into the front of the shop.   
“Elizabeth and…” You pause, flushing as you realize you don’t know his real name.  
“Really?” He says, laughing at your pause, “How do you not know my name by now?”  
“I’m so sorry, I normally just… nevermind.”  
“No, what do you call me if you don’t know my name?”   
“Well, I have nicknames for everyone here… You’re-- the Flash…” He stares at you for a moment before he throws back his head and laughs, “Come on now, kid. What’s your real name and I’ll start using it.”  
“That’s part of what’s so funny. My name is Barry.”  
“No way.” He just keeps laughing as he nods. “Well, I should get extra points for that.”  
“What’s my nickname?” Elizabeth asks,  
“Oh, uh… you and the girls were the All-Mother.” She seems to be happy with this, standing a little straighter,  
“You hear that, Bar? Don’t mess with the All-Mother, boy.”   
“Anyway, Luke…” The name still feels wrong, “Elizabeth and BARRY are engaged. They’ve been a couple of my regulars for several years now.” He nods, his gaze distant for a moment before shaking himself,  
“Well, congratulations to the pair of you, but I’m afraid I have some work to get done. If you’ll excuse me.”  
“Wait, do you have a nickname?” Elizabeth asks,  
“Um-- I call him… Loki, sometimes…” You blush lightly, seeing his mouth quirk up into a half smile.  
“And you are Lady Sigyn.” Loki responds fondly,  
“Aw, that’s so cute!” She giggles, “Well, we’ll let you guys get back to work. If you’d like help moving anything around let us know.”  
“And by ‘us’, she means tell her and she’ll make me do it.” Barry chuckles wryly, Elizabeth just nods.  
“I think we’ll be fine, but thank you. And congratulations, again.”   
“Found it! Daddy, we have to go, I’m going to miss the bus!”  
Loki walks Váli to the bus stop where he’s picked up for school, by the time he gets back to the shop, Elizabeth and Barry are not the only customers anymore. Several of your other regulars have come in, some with house-warming-type gifts to congratulate you on your reopening. Among the familiar faces, you saw Captain Winter Falcon, now with an archer’s bow slung over his back, in addition to his Captain America merchandise, picking through the Hawkeye comics. You find yourself missing Balder terribly, realizing your Collector would never be coming into your shop with a new request for a rare comic, and your heart breaks. You have to busy yourself to keep the tears at bay. After a while the store quiets down again, and it’s just you and Loki. He has been quietly unpacking, sorting, and moving boxes of comic books all day, never complaining, but constantly melancholy. You sneak up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning into his back.  
“What’s the matter, Min kärlek?” You ask gently, he doesn’t speak, he only sighs, continuing with his work, “I know this is essentially a life sentence for you, but you get to spend it with us. Can’t that be satisfactory?” he’s quiet for a long time,  
“Satisfaction is not in my nature.” He finally responds,  
“But nature can be overcome. You never thought yourself capable or worthy of love; believed yourself to be cold-hearted.”  
“I am.” He turns to you, your hold on his waist breaking, “Any heart I may have had was Jotun anyway; frozen to the core… and I believe it died with you in the Purging.” He tries to turn back to his work, but you take his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you.  
“You cannot convince me of that. Not with how you look at me. Not when I see you tuck in our son at night, or read him a bedtime story. You are only incapable of loving yourself... But that's why I'm here.” You hold his gaze, ensuring he knows you mean every word. “I love you more than anything, Loki. I know you love me.” You take a deep breath, “And I know you will love our new son, just as much.” He blinks, not sure he heard you right.  
“New son? Meaning you want to have another baby?” he asks slowly, maybe a little warily,   
“It’s a little late for that decision, love.” You lean close, standing on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “I’m pregnant.” When you lean away from him, he’s completely motionless, eyes wide, but you see them twinkle lightly.   
“You’re pregnant?” You nod to him and he reaches forward, feeling your lower stomach. You both know he won’t feel anything this early, but the gesture is so sweet you can’t stop the tear that rolls down your cheek. Loki gives you a sidelong glance, “How do you know it’s a boy, though?” You chuckle and shrug,  
“Let’s just say I had a dream.” Finally, for the first time since he came home with you, he smiles. A real smile, not a mask for the sake of some new acquaintance or a forced response to a joke from Váli, he really smiles, out of sheer joy at the realization that his wife is having another baby. His family is growing. And he gets to be there for it.  
“We can tell Váli when he gets home from school this afternoon. What do you think he’ll do?”  
“He’ll hate the idea of having a younger brother.” Your smile drops,  
“Really? Why would he hate it?”   
“If he’s anything like me, and he is my son, after all, he’ll hate it.”  
“Loki…”  
“Yes?”   
“You’re younger than Thor… And you don’t have any younger brothers.”  
“Yes, but when they told me Thor was my brother, I hated the idea.” You finally catch that glint in his eye, the hidden laugh that came with pulling your leg. You punch at his shoulder playfully, but he catches your wrist and pulls you into him, kissing you so soundly; when he lets go you have to lean on him to stay upright. “Thank you, darling.”  
“For what? Giving you another son?” You half-joke, still giddy from the kiss,  
“For everything. For believing I was more than just the brother of Thor, for loving me for more than my title… for remembering me as I was… and for staying with me when you found out what I have become.” He swallows hard. “Without you here, now, I would—“ you shush him by pulling him into another kiss. You can feel his tears on your cheek as you drape your arms around his neck. You rest your forehead on his,   
“Stop thinking like that. Leave the past in the past and stay here with me.” He smiles softly at you,  
“I do like the sound of that.”  
That evening, after you had closed up the shop and you and Loki were cleaning up after dinner, Váli was at the kitchen table doing his homework. You told him he was going to be a big brother. Loki was wrong. Váli was ecstatic, jumping around the room, cheering, perfectly happy that he had a little brother on the way.   
He is your son too, after all.


End file.
